The pungent odor of sweat and blood invaded her olfactory senses. Her face contorted in revulsion as the laundry bags, filled with the 11th Division's uniforms, were piled in front of her. The scent choked her nostrils, robbing the woman of the fresh air that kept her conscious. She could feel her stomach churn, the remnants of her last meal slowly working its way up her esophagus.
As a result, Momoka Zetsurin of the 4th Division started to become a tad delirous as a fog enveloped her brain from the lack of clean air. Momoka could feel the microbials jump from the uniforms and latch onto her skin; clogging her pores and befouling her flesh with the nauseating aroma that was squad eleven's.
A moan and the greenish tint of her countenance was all the warning she gave as the scent overpowered her, causing bitter and acidic fluid to spew from her stomach. It went up her throat, pass her lips, with a sudden lurch forward and with a sickening splat, Momoka's simple breakfast and gastric acid slashed onto the floor.
The other shinigami groaned and backed away from the girl. Some held their noses, while others cursed at her. Yet, Momoka did not hear nor see them. Instead she retched once again then stumbled back from the mess she created. Darkness edged her vision; a numbness that swept over limbs. That was the only warning she gave herself before she was lost to everything in the unconscious world.
Momoka returned to the cognizant realm with a start, a sharp pain spidered through her cranium as it adjusted to the harsh midday sun of the Sereitei. Her brows furrow as she wondered how she got outside. The last recollection Momoka had was that she was picking up the laundry from the eleventh division before... everything went black.
Holding a hand over her brow to shield herself from the glare of sun, Momoka cast a glance at her surroundings. At her left she saw something that made her blood run cold. Her friend, and superior-- Lasha Tagushi-- was glowering at her. Although her friend was usually kind, Momoka didn't like getting on her bad side.... A side she was obviously on now.
"We finally get the eleventh division to tolerate us, but you just had to ruin it by puking all over their training room! And I had to clean it up, no less!!"
Momoka bowed her head in submission, but it did not end Lasha's tirade.
For five long minutes under the unforgiving sun, with her throat burning from earlier and the festering scent of the retched uniforms that got into this mess wafting throughout the air, tested Momoka's self-control. Even though there was nothing left to disgorge from her stomach, it did not stop her abdominal muscles from contracting. Only hearing Lasha huff at the end of the lecture did Momoka try to speak.
"Can," Momoka started, with her head still bowed and her hands clamped on her lap, "we go back now?"
Lasha's eyebrow twitched, clearly peeved that her subordinate did not offer an apology, but rather a desire to return to their squad.
Taking a deep breath to keep herself from smacking her dear friend, Lasha responded with definite irritation in her voice. "No. You are going to retrieve the uniforms from the bathhouse." She then picks up a rather large bag of soiled clothes before any objections were made and began to lug them back to the fourth division.
Momoka let out a pitiful cry before falling back against the marble floors of the Sereitei. Why must she be punished for something she couldn't control?
Stepping into the bathhouse, Momoka's lips curl back in disgust. As expected of an area that had very little ventilation and usage of water, it was uncomfortably humid and reeked of the sweat of men. She had yet walked six feet into the building before her back and the sides of her forehead began to perspire. She then sighs despairingly, knowing it is only going to get worse.
Momoka went through the tedious task of opening up all the doors to the lockers and taking out the used uniforms the other shinigami had failed to place in the hampers.
Which were a whopping four feet away from the compartments.
Forty minutes later, Momoka had only twenty or so lockers left, and already she wanted to call it a day. Due to this torture, her amethyst hued hair became flat and limp; some strands clung to the frame of her exhausted and flushed face. Even the uniform she wore was damp from her sweat, and had the slight aroma of what the eleventh's squad uniforms reeked of.
While wondering if she could just take what she had already retrieved and leave the rest here for next time, Momoka heard the soft thrum of water falling against tile. The bathhouse was quite old, though, it had been remodeled some time ago before Momoka joined the 4th Division-- they did not update the plumbing. So every now and then, the water pressure would become too great and a shower--or eight-- will suddenly turn on. The only way to turn it off was to walk under the gushing water and fix it. Unfortunately, she would be soaking wet and have the horrid stank of the 11th Division's uniforms steeped into her skin.
Uttering a few curses about the shitty plumbing, Momoka tramped over to the showers to find the one that had burst. As she glanced through each stall, it seemed that only one had broke. However, it wasn't until she came into view inside of the stall, did she realize that she was wrong in thinking the pipes had burst from too much pressure. Instead, someone was taking a shower.
And that certain someone was named Renji Abarai.
Although Renji had his back to her; just seeing him nude made every cell in Momoka's body screech to grinding halt. Momoka tried desperately to get her legs to budge-- to flee-- before she was caught, but her mind refused such a thing. It wanted to memorize every inch of the delicious man before her.
Heat engulfed Momoka's body. She could feel most of it settling between her legs, her eyes greedily soaked in the broad expanse of his sun-kissed shoulders. She bit her bottom lip, drinking in the details of how the water cascaded down the divot of his back, how his tattoos become wider then thinner as his lungs took in air.
Momoko could feel her heart start an erratic percussion against her chest as her eyes dare to travel lower to his lean hips. She could see a faint kiss of black at the sides of waist-- a new tattoo that she presumed would wrap around his midriff. Further down, her gaze slowly drifted to his ridged and sculpted perfection of a butt.
Momoko hid her moan when she observed the how the steely cords flexed beneath his skin as he massaged the thick shampoo into his scalp.
Every trickle of bubbly water that flowed down his back, Momoka took notice of and tried to follow all of their sensuous paths. One trail of soap and water trickled from his taut neck, then quickly made its descent down his glistening back. At first, it merely caresses, almost laved over the black markings of his left cheek before making its way down his firm thigh.
Once it reached the back of his knee, that same droplet spiraled in an enticingly slow manner around his toned calf before pooling at the shower floor.
Momoka soon began panting, wanting nothing more than to sink her teeth into that round piece delicious flesh. To touch, to feel exactly how his tantalizing form felt under her fingertips, to consume his very essence. Her brain decided to act on those bodily desires, and slowly her legs moved forward to devour her heavenly god.
The shift in movement does not go unnoticed by Renji's peripheral vision.
Noticing the way the bundles of tissue rippled under Renji's flesh, Momoka instantly felt that something was wrong. Her adrenal glands released epinephrine, kicking her body into the 'fight or flight' response. And while her legs did manage to take a few steps back, then refused to move any father.
Renji whipped around, his crimson tresses slapping harshly against his skin. His eyes first narrow then went sightless as the pupils enlarge at the sight of a woman before him; not expecting to have such a visitor in his presence.
Even though Momoka certainly didn't remember giving the order to her brain to look down towards the flaccid organ between Renji's thighs, but that was where her eyes strayed. Dear god was it a sight.
Perhaps it was from the rush of adrenaline, but her heart drummed a bit too fast from either Renji's perfection, or maybe even embarrassment from the situation. Either way Momoka's vision, once again, faded to black and her body became boneless.
Renji gaped, seeing the whites of the woman's eyes and her body twist in a way that signaled she was fainting. He quickly sprung into action and managed to catch the unknown woman before she could fall to the ground. A blush raced across Renji's flesh like wildfire when he felt foreign fabric brush against his abdomen, and a small grunt escaped his lips as his cock began to harden.
In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten that he was naked, now he could only pray that no one would come bustling in and see him naked, and fully aroused with an unconscious girl in arms.
The last thing he needed was more rumors spreading around.