A/n: This strange idea popped into my head weeks ago and I'm just now getting into words.

Disclaimer: I own no part of Bleach.

Yamamoto's Sunny Sunday

Yamamoto-Genryûsai Shigekuni was old, well yeah, that was obvious to everyone. But he was old, not old as in the milk's gone chunky or something like that, the dude was ancient. He has a beard so long it takes him thirty minutes every morning to braid it, he was older than the gum that the Eleventh Division stuck on the Fourth Division walls, he was older than the sandwich that Kira had found under Ichimaru's bed, he was older than all the captains' ages combined. It was safe to say that Yamamoto-Genryûsai Shigekuni was really, really old.

And yet, never, in all his centuries of being old, has he seen something like this.

During the recent ryoka invasions, he has noticed the special bond between his captains and assistant captains, or rather the...lack... of special bond.

At first, he told himself to leave it alone, it didn't matter what they felt towards each other, as long as they got things done and did their paperwork.

However as time passed on, he found he could simply not ignore the issue, because things were not getting done and they were not doing the paperwork (Zaraki Kenpachi had even allowed a hollow to destroy an entire village because he was chasing after Kusajishi Yachiru who was chasing after a small dog thinking it was a dog-shaped manjuu).

So it was on this sunny Sunday morning (no pun intended), that he sat on his big comfy chair, looking thoughtful... or dead, and contemplated the predicament.

Why couldn't they all just get along anyway?

It would save him a lot more headaches, in fact as he thought about this more he started realizing that the only division that had a flawless captain-lieutenant relationship was the 5th, and that was only because their lieutenant worshipped the ground Aizen walked on.

He got along perfectly with his own lieutenant, (what was the man's name again?), so why couldn't the rest of them as well?

A frown slowly appeared on his face as he suddenly reached into the right sleeve of his shihakushô. A small piece of paper was taken out and he slowly unfolded the parchment. Whatever was written on the paper, he spent several minutes reading it, before clearing his throat.

"Chôjirô Sasakibe." he stated in a confident voice.

"Yes, sir?"

If it hadn't been for that arthritis problem he had started developing the general might've jumped five feet into the air, when his lieutenant (Chôjirô Sasakibe) suddenly appeared at the threshold, the man had a strange knack for blending into the background.

Quickly stuffing the piece of paper back into his sleeve, he cleared his throat again, "Come in, Chôjirô Sasakibe."

Chôjirô Sasakibe came in.

"I have something I need you to do for me, Chôjirô Sasakibe."

Chôjirô nodded, "What is it, taichou?"

This time Yamamoto reached into the left sleeve of his shihakushô. "Take this, and go to every division Chôjirô Sasakibe." he ordered, taking the object and holding it out for him. Chôjirô stepped up and took it, no, he was not wondering why his captain kept a camera in his robes.

"Take a picture of every captain and lieutenant," Yamamoto continued, "And hide your reiatsu well, don't let them detect you, Chôjirô Sasakibe."

Chôjirô nodded, bowing he stood up, he walked a few steps before turning around, "Um...excuse me, Taichou?"

"Yes, Chôjirô Sasakibe?"

"Why do you...never mind...nothing, sir."

"Good, now get going Chôjirô Sasakibe."

"Yes, sir."


A few shunpo later, Chôjirô found himself in front of the second division. Concealing his reiatsu like he was told, he snuck quietly to a window from the main office, where the voices of Soi Fong and Omaeda were coming out.

"OMAEDA!! What are your rice cracker bags doing on my albums of Yoruichi-sama?!"

"Whaaaat? Oh, so that's where I put my stash. Thanks, Taichou!"

"Omaeda...you..."

Chôjirô winced, as the sound of glass breaking and a certain male howling went through the window. Gulping at the thought of getting caught in the crossfire, he scrambled up to take a quick picture before flash-stepping away.


Before he could even get there, one Kira Izuru's voice was heard.

"YOU CAN DO IT, TAICHOU!! JUST ONE MORE!!" the usually timid boy's voice was heard screaming enthusiastically (or was it hysterically?)

"But Izuuuruuu, this is soooo boooooring! We've been doing this forever!" Ichimaru Gin's lazy voice drawled from inside.

"TAICHOU, JUST ONE MORE! DO YOU REALIZE HOW CLOSE WE ARE TO FINISHING?! ONE MORE!! THAT'S RIGHT, LIFT UP THE BRUSH, AND SIGN YOUR NAME ON THE DOTTED LINE!! YES, YES, YES, THAT'S GOOD TAICHOU...!"


"I can't believe those Eleventh division jerks!" he heard Kotetsu Isane huff, "Why do they like picking on us so much anyway?"

The sound of a cup hitting the Fourth's wooden tables signaled Chôjirô that it was probably around Unohana's teatime.

"Try to be patient with them Isane." Unohana's serene voice advised.

"I try a lot. Just yesterday I tried very politely to tell some of those Eleventh that sake was prohibited inside the relief stations and what do they do? They drug all the food with alcohol!"

"Oh?" Unohana inquired curiously.

"Yes, we spent almost the whole day trying to calm down all the patients!"

"Who were those Eleventh members?"

"And they had the nerve to deny their crime...what, ma'am?"

"Their names. I would like to know those Eleventh men's names, please."

"Oh...uh...Mori Hideki, Kitano Masayuki, and Hirota Kisame I think it was."

"I see, well I suppose I'll have to drop by and give them a little lecture."

"A...little lecture, ma'am?"

"That's right, perhaps a bit of discipline as well."

Chôjirô agreed quite kindly to the frightful squeak that her poor assistant had managed to regurgitate, he quickly took a picture and sprinted off.


"Here you go, Aizen-taichou! I finally got that book you wanted!"

"Thank you, Hinamori-kun. Who would I be without you?"

"Oh no, I'm sure you would be just as great of a captain as you are now! You're amazing Aizen-taichou!"

He heard Aizen chuckle, "Why thank you again, Hinamori-kun."

A pause.

"I...uh...apologize for returning so late with it. You must've gotten impatient." The girl coyly said.

"What? No, not at all. I didn't mind waiting."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, since the next thing he knew, Chôjirô was almost blown into a nearby tree, when Hinamori Momo suddenly went into full-power sobbing.

"Oh, Aizen-taichou! I'm so sorry about my uselessness! I (sniff) don't (sniff) want (sniff) to be a burden to you!"

"There, there," Aizen soothed, "You don't have to apologize."

"And that's another thing! All I ever do is apologize! I want to do MORE!!" Hinamori wailed, and Chôjirô could hear a few of the 5th division shinigami cautiously approaching. Chôjirô blinked, a little overwhelmed by the sudden mood swing, but snapped a picture while they were both preoccupied.


Chôjirô almost broke his neck on his way to the 6th division. He had shunpoed from roof to roof, but a quite disconcerting 'HOLY SHIT' had knocked him completely off balance, thus losing his footing and nearly his life.

At that point, the 1st division lieutenant was so tempted to just skip the 6th division, but then he thought about his captain and the zanpakuto he had, and how much it would suck to get burned into ashes just because he decided to skip sixth.

"Oh my god, Taichou I am SO sorry!"

"..."

"Um...you've got a little grass tangled in your hair."

"Remove your hand from my head."

"Er...yeah...look, I'm really, really sorry! I didn't mean to do that, the look on your face is saying I did that on purpose, but I didn't! I swear, I had really seriously intended to move pass you not on you! And that floor crack...heh...we really gotta get that fixed..."

"Renji."

"Please don't kill me!"

"I will consider it later, bring me a towel..."


"You must understand Tetsuzaemon, that all living things deserve a place in this world."

"Eh...yes, sir."

"Every breathing speck of life, so long as they are alive, deserves a chance."

"Eh...yes, sir."

"Discrimination should not be submitted to those that are different than us...hold your foot up with your hand, so the other one can move freely."

"Like this?"

"Not quite. Anyway, it does not matter what they are, who they are...or what they look like, every being should be given the opportunity to prove their worth."

Some heavy grunting was heard in the background, as Iba seemed to be having a hard time with whatever he was doing.

"Yes, and every possibility, should be given to them!" Komamura continued, getting fired up.

"So what if they're a fox spirit, as long as they have what it takes, they should be permitted the rights of any normal human soul!"

Some more grunting and a crash this time, while Komamura prattled on.


"Nanao-chan! Lovely, lovely, Nanao-chan! Kawaii, kawaii, Nanao-chan!" Kyoraku Shunsui was calling in a singsong voice. Even when Chôjirô couldn't see him, he could just imagine the flamboyant captain in his colorful haori, as he floated down the hall to harass his lieutenant.

"Nanao-chan, you can't hide forever! You know we were meant to---"

Crunch.

Chôjirô almost leaked out some of his reiatsu at the sharp noise. It sounded like Ise Nanao had just stomped on her captain's foot.

"Oh, Nanao-chan, there you are!" Shunsui exclaimed happily, seemingly showing no reaction whatsoever to the grievous injury she had just inflicted on his foot.

"You need me for something, Taichou?" Her voice kind of sounded like, 'It better be important or I'm going to suffocate you.'

"Ah yes, Nanao-chan, I've been having a terrible dilemma lately," Shunsui said, tone suddenly sorrowful.

Ise Nanao was heard sighing exasperatedly, "And what might that be?"

A long moment of silence, then...

"No matter where I look, I can't seem to find any X-ray kidou spells! Nanao-chan, could you help me?"

It was no surprise to Chôjirô when a certain sound reached his ears, Shunsui was practically asking for it.


"No, Hisagi. Replace the subject in sentence four with justice."

"Yes, sir."

"And sentence five with bloodshed."

"Yes, sir."

"Good, now read it to me."

"...But sir, I haven't wrote anything."

"Did I not tell you to start writing down my speech?"

"...No, sir."

"Oh...well then, get to it."

"...Yes sir." The rustling of paper and a brush striking it.


Chôjirô landed next to the window of the 10th division office wit a sigh of relief. Though it was pretty amusing to watch all the different divisions and their interactions with each other, he was still happy that he only had three more division left after 10th. He pressed his ear against the wall below the window and listened hard.

"Matsumoto, I will not ask again. Do the paperwork."

"Aw Taichou, you're so cute when you're angry!"

"You idiot..."

"You try to be level-headed, but you lose your temper so quickly! It's ADORABLE!" a couple of girlish squeals of delight.

"Matsumoto..."

"In fact it's almost like how Gin use to act, but instead of getting mad, he'd start hyperventilating! Did you know the first time I got my period, he freaked and dragged me through half of Rukongai!"

"MATSUMOTO, GET OFF YOU'RE LAZY ASS AND DO THE FRICKIN' PAPERWORK!"

A moment of silence then...

"Kyaa! You're soooo cute, Taichou! I can't stand it!"

"Wait...! What are you doing? Get away from me--hmpf!"

"Fuzzy, fuzzy Taichou! White cuddly Taichou!" Rangiku was chanting, and Chôjirô could just barely hear Hitsugaya Toushirou's very smothered protests.


Chôjirô wanted to skip 11th division. Though he has never encountered eleventh members very much, because his own unit was so far away, Chôjirô has heard stories. Stories about brutish, violent, wild, and incredibly stupid men that had an incurable fetish for battle.

In fact, he had already flash-stepped pass 11th division, when his Captain's zanpakuto crawled into his mind again. At that thought, he quickly turned heel and sped back to the eleventh office. After all, it was his duty to follow the orders of his captain (especially if his captain was commander-general and wielded a sword that could turn shadows into ash, never mind skin, flesh, and bones).

"Ken-chaaaan!!"

"What?"

"Ken-chan, Baldie-chan's head is bleeding!"

"Again?"

"Yep, it looked so shiny, maybe I bit a little too hard."

"Is he dead?"

"Dunno, he smashed his face into the ground and when Eyebrow-chan kicked him, he didn't move."

"Geez, yer such a pain in the ass."

Whether it was because the two spoke of disturbing things in such a casual way or because he saw that the wall he was leaning against started crumbling, he nearly forgot to take a picture before hauling butt out.


He approached 12th with utter care (really, wearing a white cape while on a stealth mission had to be the dumbest thing he's ever done). Noiseless, he toed around suspicious puddles of goop and flattened himself against the once white division wall (the white was now splattered with ambiguously colored stains, that he avoided touching).

"Day 72: Subject showing erratic growth of facial hair, I---Nemu! You idiot, where is the special formula that I had prepared!"

"You said you would take of it yourself, Mayuri-sama."

"What!" a rummaging sound came from inside, "Well, don't just stand there! Help me look, you imbecile!"

"Yes, Mayuri-sama."

More rummaging and slamming of doors, and Chôjirô heard a faint muffled voice that seemed to be screaming for help.


"Taichou, please wipe your illustrious nose on my sleeve!"

Kotetsu Kiyone gasped, "That's unfair Kotsubaki! Here Taichou, wipe on my gloves! You can have both!"

"Kiyone, you bastard!"

"Shut up, goatee monkey!"

"Now, now, I don't think any of that is necessary. If either of you have a handkerchief, it would be most appreciated." Ukitake's strangely nasal voice calmed them.

"Oh, Taichou! I apologize for being so incompetent as to forget to have a hanky on hand, in case you may sneeze, please punish me!"

"Sentarou, there's no need to start crying..."

"Taichou, I am the same! Feel free to punish me as well!"

"Why would I...?"

"Hmph! Taichou, you can chop off my arms and hang me on the ceiling by my tongue!"

"..."

"Well, Taichou you can slash me into little bits and make me clean up the blood with my own toothbrush!"

"...that's disgusting."

"You booger-eating, booger! Stop copying me!"

"Shut the hell up, you armpit smelling goat!"

"...all I want is a handkerchief."


Having gotten all the pictures that were required, Chôjirô headed back to his own division. However, when he got there he found his Captain drooped in his seat, snoring like a chainsaw.

Quite use to these situations by now, Chôjirô calmly stepped up to him and produced an alarm clock from his own shihakushô sleeve. Winding it, he held it right in front of his Captain's ear.

It exploded and his Captain woke up, "Children should eat three meals a day!" Yamamoto shouted, snapping his eyes open.

Chôjirô coughed politely, not even in a vague sense wanting to know what the old man had been dreaming about, "Sir, I have returned with the pictures."

Yamamoto stared at him, his face twisting as he seemed to try to remember something. "Oh...oh yes, those pictures. Good work, Chôjirô Sasakibe. Now go get them developed!"

(A few trivial minutes later of getting the pictures developed and such...)

"You may leave now, Chôjirô Sasakibe." Yamamoto said absently, staring at the manila envelope like it was the most beautiful thing on Earth.

Chôjirô bowed, and stepped out.

Yamamoto's old gangly hands ripped the envelope open hungrily, and started looking through photos.

In the first picture, a livid Soi Fong had just smashed a very expensive vase over her lieutenant's head, as Marechiyo Omaeda spewed half-chewed crackers into the air at the ornament's contact with his cranium. (He'd really have to explain to her, how they couldn't keep spending money refurbishing her room, because she wanted to see how much pressure it would take to crack open her assistant's skull).

The next one showed Ichimaru Gin doing a face-plant on his desk, while he hovered his ink brush teasingly right above the signature line. Kira Izuru was crying tears of happiness and hysteria, it was too bad Yamamoto would have to wait for Paperwork Day to see if Ichimaru had signed or not.

In the Fourth Division picture, Kotetsu Isane was hiding behind a lawn chair, as Unohana Retsu sipped tea in her usual composed manner. (He didn't know what had occurred, but he was pretty sure the inky black, DOOM, DOOM aura that surrounded the female captain had something to do with it).

His eyebrow would've disappeared into his hair if he had any, at the sight of 5th division. So this is what they do behind closed doors. Hinamori Momo had heard mouth wide open, like she was in the middle of a wail, while Aizen Sosuke had a tranquil smile on as he supplied her with tissues.

A chuckle escaped his lips before he realized it at the sight of 6th division. Kuchiki Byakuya sat at his desk--stony silent as ever--only he looked much less intimidating soaked completely with water and was that grass in his hair? Abarai Renji stood at one side, sweating like a pig and his arms were held up defensively as if he expected Byakuya to lash out at him any second.

In the next photograph, Komamura Sajin seemed in the middle of saying something, with a big fist pumped in the air, but one couldn't really tell since he had such an elaborate mask on (It was all in the guy's head, really). Over in a corner, he spotted Tetsuzaemon Iba apparently trying to do the Lotus position and apparently failing at it. The lieutenant was in mid-fall, his arms waving around, because he had just kicked himself in the face, if that was even possible.

Yamamoto didn't even bother to stifle his laughter at the next picture. It looked like Ise Nanao's knee had just entered somewhere it should not have entered. The Commander-General jokingly wondered if he should be nicer to Shunsui at the next few meetings. He thought about it for all of two seconds before shaking his head, but the look on his old student's face was priceless. He always knew the boy would get it one day for being such a pervert.

The 9th photo actually looked pretty normal. Hisagi Shuuhei was writing something, while his captain, Tousen Kaname watched him. This disappointed Yamamoto slightly, but he as he looked closer he could tell that Hisagi's left eye was twitching, and Tousen looked like he was about to yawn.

For the 10th division picture, Yamamoto allowed himself a pat on the back at his extraordinary assignment skills. Who else to be partnered with buxom Matsumoto Rangiku, but hormone less Hitsugaya Toushiro? Why, if it had been any other boy being swung around with their face crammed between her bosom, they'd most likely die of blood loss!

Nothing went through his mind for the 11th. A motionless Madarame Ikkaku with his bald head gushing blood, a nonchalant Ayasegawa Yumichika, an annoyed Zaraki Kenpachi, and a cheerful Kusajishi Yachiru as she doodled on Ikkaku's head with his own blood--it was all self-explanatory.

It took him several minutes to figure out what was going on in 12th. Why the hell were Kurotsuchi and his abused daughter sticking their butts out at him? Evidently, it would seem those two were looking for something, within the closets their heads disappeared into. Yamamoto wasn't sure, but it might've had something to do with bound and gagged victim that was strapped to a lab table in a far corner of the room. The poor man's beard was almost as long as his, and his eyes were wide and glossy--a clear sign of heavy trauma.

At last, he had gotten to his other student, Ukitake Juushiro's division. His two third seats were fighting again, Kiyone's eyes looked ready to roll out of her sockets and Sentarou seemed to have burst a vein. In the immediate background Yamamoto saw his student observing them warily with a hand cupped over his nose (Did he get a nose bleed?)

After looking at the last picture and shuffling through the rest of them a couple of times, Yamamoto quietly put the photos back into the envelope. Standing up and ignoring all the odd little pops that went with the action, Yamamoto stepped over to his desk, with envelope in hand, and placed it on the table like he was handling an infant.

Then, he quietly made his way back to his chair. But before he could even sit down, he collapsed onto the floor in a fit of snorts and guffaws.

He laughed so hard he almost choked on his own saliva, totally out of character. Then, as quickly as he began, he stopped. Picking himself up from the floor and smoothing down his robe, he seated himself back onto his chair.

Yamamoto stared at the envelope that lay on his desk. Something had to be done.


Yes! First chapter finished! Man, this is long!

What does everyone think? If any of you don't get the whole Chôjirô Sasakibe thing, just wait till next chapter and you'll find out.

Review please; this is only my second fic and my first try at humor, so it's not gonna be perfect. Oh, and the ryoka I'm talking about isn't Ichigo-tachi, just some random ryoka.