good for the health

Urahara Kisuke, recently appointed Captain of the Twelfth Division, had had designs (strategic, erotic, or with cut-away anatomical diagrams) on a number of Captains in his time. He didn't see why he shouldn't include Unohana Retsu on the list. After all, he'd always had a weakness for older women. He couldn't understand why Kyouraku Shunsui hadn't made a move on her years or even centuries before. Everyone knew Kyouraku Shunsui's reputation.

Maybe Unohana-taichou had just heard about it as well, and was good at dodging.

He'd heard that she was fond of mountain-climbing, so he made his move while she was on an inspection visit to Twelfth, up on a nice high tower, which had the benefit of (a) fresh air, and (b) nobody being able to see up that far. Little Hiyori had been dispatched to fetch wine, which left her currently 8,932 steps away from them, which should be enough for a nice thorough seduction.

"Oh my," she said as he slid an arm around her waist. "Really, Urahara-taichou."

"Have you any idea how long I've dreamed of this?" he breathed into her neck, nibbling down towards the bosom.

"But -- we might be interrupted --" she gasped, trembling in his arms. "Little Hiyori-kun --"

"Don't worry," he reassured her, letting her feel the full strength of his muscular body. "It'll be half an hour before she gets back up here. Nobody will interrupt us. It's just you and me and the open air, beautiful Retsu-chan, lovely Retsu-chan, gorgeous Retsu-chan -- your eyes, your lips, your heaving breasts . . ."

"Oh," she sighed, "I so rarely get to . . ."

He silenced her with a passionate kiss.


Hiyori trudged back up the stairs. Flash step might be flash step, but 8,932 steps upwards was still 8,932 steps upwards. She didn't care if the damn wine had turned to vinegar. Right now she was in a mood to pipe it up her new Captain's fricking ass.

"Oh! How very kind of you, Hiyori dear," Unohana-taichou said as Hiyori stepped out onto the top level. She was looking down at the gas-strewn fields below, her hair and complexion as perfect as ever, white coat and black robes falling in utterly even folds. "Your Captain was just pointing out some features of interest."

"Urgle," Urahara-taichou said, clinging to the parapet. His face could have served as poster boy for the "BEFORE" stage of Twelfth Division's latest health advertisements. His eyes were like yellow poached eggs and rolled loosely in their sockets. His lips were thin and drooping. He swayed from side to side, barely able to stand upright, and his clothes hung untidily on his limp body.

"Is something the matter with him?" Hiyori asked.

"I think so," Unohana-taichou said gravely. "In fact, I think that I should take him to Fourth Division at once for urgent attention. I'm very sorry to have put you to the trouble of carrying the wine up here, Hiyori-kun."

"Not at all," Hiyori said cheerfully. The thought of having her new Captain out of her hair for a few hours was blissful in itself. "I'm sure you'll take good care of him, Unohana-taichou --"

"Nooooo!" Urahara-taichou screamed. It came out as a thin drained whimper. "Don't let her -- don't let her --"

"He's delirious," Unohana-taichou said gravely. "But don't worry, Hiyori-kun, I'll give him my personal attention. I'm sure that we'll have him back on his feet in a day or two -- or three, at the most . . ."

Urahara-taichou scrabbled vainly at the edge of the parapet, trying to pull himself upright enough to jump over it.

"Why don't you sit down for a few minutes and relax?" Unohana-taichou suggested, picking Urahara-taichou up with ease and dangling his trembling body over her shoulder. She ignored the way that he feebly attempted to grab at the doorframe and cling to it. "I'll take care of things from here. I'm sure that Urahara-taichou wouldn't want you to worry about him."

Hiyori nodded, and waved happily at Urahara-taichou as he was carried away.