Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach; genius Kubo Tite does.

I so hate Kuchiki-taichou right now, like so much I can just jot it down like a friggin' corny hate mail and shove it up his goddamn chest-or something of that sort. And then we'll see how the surprise sinks in on him. No, really, I'm a resigned lieutenant waiting to happen, a transferee-in-progress in fact, or simply that guy who's off to cut all ties with his majesty, The Pompous Prick who also happens to be the head of some noble clan I don't give a shit about. Just say the word and I'll do it. In other words, who does he think he is? When I think about it, it's more like 'who does he think I am'? Oh goddammit, what does he think I am? Come on. I can be a fucking lackey for too long but I ain't never gonna be a portable Gigai who gets to brush the fucking dusts off his feet. I'll tell you about it, alright. I mean, to hell with dignity and pride. Those two have long been buried under a pile of dirt; they'd gone off from the time I got myself pitched up to be his goddamn lieutenant.

It all goes right and smooth at the start, or so they say, so when I got summoned up his office first time around I was excited and all, and then suddenly there was this foot-high pile of papers staring at me, to which I stared back without knowing in the least what to make of it. And before I could ask my captain, 'You're not asking me to go through all these paperwork, are you?' he announced, 'I'd like you to go over this paperwork.'. I just stood there, open-mouthed, for what good gaping around would do me. I might've been gaping there for ten whole minutes or perhaps long enough for flies to inhabit my poor mouth when he spoke again, 'Well? Aren't you going to do what you're told?' I went about scrambling all over the place, messing up his tidied-up room, not to mention I was as nervous as a constipated twitch. Fortunately, I managed to produce a shaky 'Y-yes, captain.'

It was alright, I thought at first. He was probably just testing me or something. So I skimmed the shit until evening came. However, when he called it a night, all my friends, Hisagi-sempai, Madarame, Kira, and the whole lot of them drunkards had gone off to the pub without as much as wondering what was keeping the leader of the pack (me) so long. Since I was as late for the night-out as a detained moron, thanks to my terrific captain, I thought I might as well drop by the 13th Division Quarters and invite Rukia, my best friend, to tag along. I waited in the division quarter's lobby, and there I met their captain. He wasn't looking too healthy, but he looked friendly enough. Unlike some particular no-care-for-the-world captain I know. Anyway, I introduced myself to him, and in return I got congratulated for my promotion. If I had known then what sort of hell I entered myself into by joining the 6th division, I would've thrust Ukitake-taichou's cordiality back at him. Thankfully, Rukia showed up at last, which marked the end of our brief stay there. I wished my own captain were as nice but, as what you will later know, with the aid of my unfortunate accounts, I might as well have hoped to overthrow the 11th Division Captain single-handedly without resorting to my Bankai, if you know what I mean.

And so we lodged ourselves into this roomy pub to learn that everyone was in a superb mood. Kira kept on cracking corny jokes, but we laughed at their lameness anyway. And then for some bizarre reason, someone showed up. And guess who it was. Him. He brushed past the tables with the gracefulness of a monarch and stopped by our table. Even as some of the guys were as drunk as a bastard, we all had our mouths shut as though we were as sober as priests. Rukia was the first one to comment, and a very awkward moment it was too, 'Ni-ni-sama, we we're just—' and she couldn't finish because Kuchiki-taichou, being the pompous git that he always was, cut her off with '—having a little fun. I can see that from eighty yards away, what with the racket your companions are making'. You bet you're right; some haughty little fellow Rukia's big brother is. And he continued, as if things weren't as bad enough as hell already, 'Renji, I'd like you to polish these reports and submit them to me tomorrow. Morning. Good evening, gentlemen.' And he was gone just like that. I was still staring blankly at the papers he had loaded on the fucking table. He was long gone, for ten seconds to be exact, (and what with his incredible Shunpo skills, he might've gone a fucking mile already) when I managed to ask 'What am I supposed to do with junk of this thickness?' I might as well have spoken to the wall. That was it for me.

From then on, he upgraded from the no-nonsense noble captain to my personal royal pain in the ass, like, major. I'm telling you, he might have killed me half a dozen times without me noticing it because I had always been too busy nursing my own ass, literally; I reckoned I'd already spent half of my life sitting in his office, literally frying my butt, and alone with him at that too, mind you. If anything, it had all the fun of spending the night in a goddamn morgue.

But then this intense boredom was just the tip of the iceberg. Anywhere we met, which was practically everywhere, he would always pull out some out-of-nowhere assignment for me, which wasn't altogether bad considering that, at times, he'd ask me to take care of some Hollows and purge some place and all that. But you see, the timing was always perfect—so perfectly inconvenient in fact that he'd always show up every time I was with Rukia. The process went as such that he would just butt in on us and would send stuff raining down on me, saying, 'Renji do this,' Renji, do that', and when he had nothing more to ask of me he'd go like, 'Renji, do what's between this and that'. And he'd tell me so as though he was doing me this huge favor or something to that effect.

That was the unbreakable cycle. He never ran out of things to dump on me whenever I go around with his little sister. I figured in the end that perhaps he didn't want me hanging around her a lot, which was understandable given that he wanted to rear her after his noble ways and all that shit. But, at length, it became quite apparent that he didn't want me around her at all. Read this: at all. Like, hell, first and fucking foremost, I met her donkey years way before he even thought of adopting her. Now don't get me wrong; I don't have a thing for Rukia, for Pete's sake, because we grew up together. That just got me thinking. Perhaps he was the one who got this thing for his adopted sister. That just about rendered him an incestuous, pedophiliac, all-high and mighty creep. To my credit, I didn't want to think of him that way, though; I respect the man, alright. So to end the issue once and for all I stopped seeing Rukia for a time, and surprise, surprise; he stopped dropping spontaneous tasks on me right then and there. He was so friggin' obvious. I didn't realize before then how far he'd go to get me to lay my hands off his little sister.

So I got back to the regular flow of things, which went along the lines of doing written reports and some field works, and no more gallivanting with Rukia to avoid big brother's disapproval and jealousy. But since lower-seat officers required more time in the field for training purposes, he'd have me glued on my goddamn seat in his stupid office most of the time, which was only a minute less than every fucking time. I might have received as many complaints from the chair as it had from me. Jesus. One time, we were unquestionably so sick of each other, I mean, the chair and me, that I went off the corner of the room and started to pull some stretching. Captain didn't mind at all, which just about killed me. I learned that you could do cartwheels across the room and he wouldn't give you the slightest damn as long as you didn't mess around with his papers. For a second there I thought he must have lost his marbles from all the boredom he was generating, but it turned out it was only just so because he had all the sensitivity of a goddamn toilet seat. Or perhaps he was trying to get me to expire for the hell of it. Maybe he finds fun in doing that. I don't really know.

Sometime after the grueling and endless sitting sessions, he asked me if I'd like to go join him hunt down some elite Hollows, to which I said 'yes' even though I would rather have gone out with a couple of rabid and Ebola-stricken apes. On the field, he went about mercilessly mauling foes with his brilliant Zenbon Sakura, leaving me with nothing to do but to fucking watch and marvel at his efficiency and to look like a useless idiot on top of everything. What a show-off, I thought, and I went off muttering and calling him a bitch under my breath for like ten hours afterwards. And then he gave me this sort of look that kinda made me feel like I was stupidly doing everything backwards or I wasn't doing anything I was supposed to effing do. He's done that shit quite often too, and every time he did it I would feel like wanting to jump off the goddamn window or the nearest cliff. Man, you'd think I only exist for the purpose of getting my ass scorned by his highness, the pompous jackass. No kidding, he's a hot-shot and all but, man, with the way he runs things when I'm around, you'd find yourself wanting to shove my face in a preheated oven instead.

And now, the time has come. He's ripe to go to hell. I'm fucking resigning. I've had enough of all his horsing-around's to last me a few lifetimes, and I'm being absolutely serious. You wouldn't believe me if I named all the horsing-around's he had performed on me; you'd think I was the one horsing around with you.

Now here I am, on his way to his holy office. And oh, before I forget, there's this major ball coming up; old gramps Yamamoto's throwing a huge party for his birthday. Don't ask me how old he is. Anyway, I decided earlier, just to josh around with my captain, or should I say, my soon-to-be former captain, to take Rukia as my date. He can oppose for all I effing care, for it's not like anything's gonna stop me as I go damn nearer to being off his effing hook. So, I knock on his office door, I enter, and take a seat on the visitor's chair. He casts me a quick glance for acknowledgement. Boy, aren't you in for it, you haughty git. I look at him, and I am now imagining what that pretty face will make of my resignation. Hahahaha.

Now I'm coughing to gather his attention. I am currently dropping a million hints that I need a word with him. I'm counting. I'm waiting…I can't talk. I mean, I'm quite nervous. The only thing I'm so used to say when he's around is 'Yes, captain.' Now that I've mentioned it, why can't that phrase just die, dammit? I pray to hell that that won't be the thing I'm about to say now. Man, he's always so hard to refuse; like if he asked me to edit two reports, I'd be liable to finish the entire shelf if he so much as looked at it. Man…


Oh, boy, what the hell does he want now? I haven't even opened my goddamn mouth…

"Yes, captain?"

Oh shit. Just about the phrase I most especially dread to hear and say. And to think it came from my effing mouth. Argh, I gotta stop him from parting those pretty lips again before he extracts another pathetic 'Yes, captain' from me.

"Would you like to be my date in the upcoming ball?"

Jesus, Mary, Judas. How in bloody hell am I supposed to answer something as unprecedented as that? Really, I can just drop dead any minute now. I thought I had the measure of him with all his carousel and horsing-around's, and oh crap. I'm blushing like a red moron. Just what is this shit all about? He's never given me enough attention to make me feel wanted, needed. Come on, I can even count in my right hand the number of times he's ever thrown me compliments. Actually, he does it so seldom it wouldn't make a difference if he were forbidden to praise me. And now he's fucking asking me out. Are you reading this? He's hitting on me! Sheesh. No choice for me…

"Yes, captain."

Maybe I'll delay my resignation for now.