Ichigo Kurosaki Play-Date 13 Imperial Court Guard Introductions

Division 13: Jyushiro Ukitake

Ichigo Kurosaki knelt next to Rukia Kuchiki. Before them, her commanding officer, Jyushiro Ukitake, smiled pleasantly from his seat not five paces away. Three cups of freshly-brewed tea steamed invitingly for them all to partake in.

The shinigami deputy fidgeted uncomfortably, striving to find some topic on which to begin a conversation.

"So…" he hazarded. The silk-haired captain beamed generously back at him. Rukia calmly took a sip of her tea.

"So listen, I've been meaning to ask you something."

Their host inclined his head in a polite gesture to continue.

Ichigo cleared his throat.

"Is what you've got contagious?"

Rukia spewed out her drink loudly.

Ukitake blinked.

"Because my dad runs a clinic back home, and I don't want anybody to get infected through me, so…"

Five seconds later saw the shrieking Ichigo flat on his back, using his legs to ward off a snarling Rukia, who was attempting to drive the business end of her sword through his throat.

Captain Ukitake continued to stare blankly forward, all his concentration bent on trying to rationalize what the hell had just been said to him.

Division 12: Mayuri Kurotsuchi

"Pardon me, young man!"

Ichigo frowned and turned around. Approaching him came the socially grotesque pair of Mayuri Kurotsuchi and his daughter Nemu. They drew to a halt, and the mad scientist smirked in a manner most unseemly.

"Master Kurosaki, yes?"

The person in question gave a wary nod. Certainly this human boondoggle knew who he was beforehand.

Mayuri clapped his hands together. "I've been meaning to introduce myself since your arrival. I am Mayuri Kurotsuchi, captain of Division 12, and that is my creation Nemu." He waved idly in her direction. Standing a few paces behind her master, hands clasped behind her back, the perpetually downcast science project gave them both a humble bow at being so acknowledged.

For his part, Ichigo took particular interest in the long limber legs she was so prominently displaying. "Yeah," he mumbled distractedly. "Nice to meet you."

"So glad to hear it!" The grin on Mayuri's face was approaching near-injury in width. "I was wondering if perhaps you would be interested in joining us for a quick tour of our research facilities. Just to get you acquainted with our contributions to Soul Society."

"Uh-huh." The boy's gaze had now fixated on the silent woman's impressive bust. He watched the front of her uniform expand, and contract. Expand, and contract.

"We have so much to offer, and I think you would enjoy yourself immensely."

At this point, the immobile Nemu suddenly withdrew what looked to be a square of white cardboard from behind her back. Written on it were two words.


Ichigo gave a start.

Noting his reaction, Mayuri frowned. He turned about, but before he could do so completely, his daughter had already obscured the offending communiqué once more behind her body. Her face remained unchanged.

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, the demented genius then returned once more to regarding the shinigami standing before him.

"As I was saying, we have a most accommodating environment, and it would assuredly be no trouble for you to spend a few hours divesting yourself of such matters to…"

Ichigo's concentration was interrupted by the reappearance of the white cardboard.


A small gasp came from his lips. This time Mayuri's head spun around 180 degrees. A most astounding feat, but once again, Nemu was faster, and he was greeted by nothing more suspicious than his subordinate's blank disinterested features.

The captain's countenance revolved back into position, and he continued. Ichigo found himself starting to sweat slightly.

"There's nothing to be bashful over. I have an excellent reputation as a host. If you would just come this way, we can start to dissect, I mean, discuss what your future might be in…"

Mayuri's grin was now at shark proportions to his head. His fingers were twitching, his eyes were rolling madly, and Nemu's next unspoken message read, RUN AWAY NOW!

"Listen I really have to be going, there's someone waiting for me!" Ichigo lied hastily, feeling more and more like his life was in danger. He turned quickly, intending to walk away from this disturbing scene.

Crouched behind him were two bizarre-looking shinigami, both frozen in mid-creep. One of them was clutching an asylum-sized butterfly net. The other hoisted a ridiculously large mallet behind his head. They were gazing at Ichigo with looks akin to children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Meep," the one with the hammer whimpered.

Their target stared at them, and then took off like a bullet down the lane, bowling over his intended hunters in his desperation.

Mayuri's left eye was now twitching involuntarily. The division head looked down on the cowering flunkies from his squad.

"Somebody's going to get dissected today," he whispered happily. "And for once it's not going to be me."

Division 11: Kenpachi Zaraki

The smoke was starting to clear. Zaraki shook his head, bells tingling melodiously, and gave a bark of bloodthirsty laughter.


When no response was forthcoming, the hulking powerhouse moved into the diminishing cover in search of his prey.

Before he could take more than a few steps, his foot came into contact with something.

Zaraki frowned.

"Ichigo? That you?"

He nudged the obstruction with his toe. It did not respond.

The mobile slaughter-fest was just considering attacking on general principle, when the obscuring dust cloud parted.

Sticking up out of the ground was a pair of feet.

The barbarian's single eye widened slightly.

A few paces to the side, the blade of Zangetsu was buried point first in the earth.

The eye scrunched tight in cogitation.

He poked the feet experimentally with his sword.

"Ichigo? You all right down there?"

The feet did not respond. Not even a twitch.

Kenpachi pondered the situation. He glanced around the deserted square. Nobody in sight.

After a few more moments of careful consideration, the living train wreck slowly turned and walked away. He made all effort to appear relaxed and unconcerned. Just going for a walk. Yeah, that's it. Going for a walk. Nothing suspicious about that, right? I was never near that spot, how should I know what anybody's doing? You got nothing on me, no proof whatsoever. Just keep walking, buddy. Keep walking or I'll give you some of the same.

Yeah. That's what he'd say.

Behind him, a butterfly flew down and landed on the foot.

Division 10: Tōshirō Hitsugaya

Rangiku set the glass of soda before him with a meaningful shake of her torso, and sauntered away. Ichigo watched her appraisingly until she was out of sight.

He then noticed that her captain was glaring at him disapprovingly.

The air in here was suddenly feeling very hot to him, and Ichigo took this opportunity to slake his thirst on the afore-mentioned beverage.

At his first sip, he grimaced.

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow.

Ichigo coughed, and set the glass back down.

"Uh…" he scratched the back of his head. "Can I have some ice in this?"

The boy-captain's cold dragon eyes narrowed.

"We ain't got no ice," he declared.

They stared at each other for a while.

Then Hitsugaya went back to signing paperwork, ignoring his guest without a qualm.

Ichigo glowered resentfully, and turned his head to one side.

"We ain't got no ice," he muttered under his breath. "Little punk."

Division 9: Kaname Tosen

"And so, in the pursuit of justice, one is reminded of the various methods and systems which profess to uphold the concept. But true justice is a state more intangible and indefinable than mere humans can conceive. In regards to the seemingly identical acts of upholding justice and preserving justice, we come to the conclusion that while in common parlay the ideas are used interchangeably, in fact, their execution might indeed be mutually exclusive, and their conception is of such polarizing duality, much akin to the nature of two positively charged magnets which actually serve to repel one another despite being of like dispositions, that in the face of this philosophical quandary, should one find himself arriving at the conclusion that justice is a multi-faceted concept, or indeed, a single entity with many faces, or characters, as I prefer to call them, then further exploration of this almost religious plurality, and I use the term 'religious' not in the sense of worship but in the more commonly overlooked inference of an overarching belief system or sense of design, not to be confused with destiny, which implies foresight and lack of control, but in the broader and more emancipating illumination of free thinking which is characterized best, though not comprehensively, in the works of the fifteenth-century judicial poet-dilettante from what is now Burkina Faso, one master…"

Ichigo's head sagged forward, his eyes closing, and he saved himself from a face-plant on his own desk only due to cat-like reflexes. Unfortunately, the brief moment of wakefulness did not last long, as his eyelids once again began to close of their own volition, seemingly dragging the rest of his head with them.

His ten-minute long bout with furious head-bobbing was interrupted by a swift poke in the ribs.

"Which leads us to the almost absurdly obvious conclusion that military conflict, while able to establish an enforced blanket of security and seeming resolution to any point of contention, actually serves only to mask the underlying issues, not resolve them in any demonstrably beneficial way, thus revealing once more that these atavistic tendencies which predate modern means of conflict resolution are in fact an anachronistic holdover, which exist only for their own sake and not for the betterment of human disposition, or temper, if I may challenge your accepted notions of linguistic communication for a moment…"

Glancing blearily over to one side, the brain-fogged student saw his classmate Abarai Renji staring fixedly forward. Below the desk, he was holding out a folded sheet in Ichigo's direction.

Taking the proffered item surreptitiously, he examined it under the sightline of anyone else. Not that visiting lecturer Kaname Tosen could see him failing to pay attention, but that busy-body Hisagi was well-known for pointing out anyone who didn't adhere to his own ideal of rapt adoration for a speaking authority figure.

Unfurling the missive, Ichigo scrutinized its contents.

Man oh man, does this guy ever shut up? I'm about to start hemorrhaging out of my ears here!

Ichigo chuckled, and then covered it with a well-placed cough when Kira glanced sharply in his direction.

"However, if we stop to determine that justice is irrevocably intertwined with peace, and proceed to disregard any evidence which might lead to the contrary, then we can reasonably conclude that war is an absence of justice, much like the answer to the ancient philosophical debate of how a virtuous God could create an evil world was proffered by the obvious conclusion that it is due to our own benighted faculties which cannot appreciate that what we perceive to be 'evil' is really only lessening degrees of good. We are, in effect, blind to…"

With no undue haste, the orange-headed future dropout scrawled out his own response, and handed it back to his desk-mate.

I know. Why couldn't he have been born mute instead of blind?

The redhead snorted, and then cleared his throat loudly to hide it.

"So the present definition of warfare now hearkens back to that most associated with the barbaric Greek war god Ares, and not his more refined and bloodless virgin of a sister, the tactician goddess Athena. Proceeding in this line of thought…"

Scribbling furiously, Renji handed the paper once more to Ichigo.

"A peaceful resolution to any skirmish is best achieved by calm and thoughtful discussion between qualified and extensively-educated individuals who have graduated through the ranks based on merit and not combat experience to arrive at a solution that will…"

Bet he even lectures while having sex.

Another loud cough.

"… foment more open dialogue that will run the gamut of issues that underscore the impetus for any past or future…"

Along with this last comment was a very graphic and well-made image of their comrade Shuhei performing an obscene act on the blind teacher's male organ, while Tosen's enlarged mouth was producing a balloon that read, 'blah, blah, justice, blah, blah, peace.' The title of the work was, Oral Exam.

"Peace good…"

Ichigo's face was now as red as Renji's hair, and after a few minutes of strangled choking noises, he managed to write down a response.

"War bad…"

Sweet god of death, I think he's channeling the characters from Gundam Wing!

"Me justice…"

The slumdog turned a confused look on his friend, mouthing the word 'What?'

Ichigo grunted softly. "Mortal show. Tell you later."


The boy jerked to his feet.

"Yes, sensei!"

"Perhaps instead of later, you would like to tell us all now."

Division 8: Kyoraku Shunsui

Ichigo walked up to the door, and knocked.

"Hello?" he called. "Captain Kyoraku? Ichigo Kurosaki here, I'm supposed to meet with you about my honorary degree from the academy?"

There was a scuffling sound, and the young shinigami thought he detected low voices speaking in whispers.

After about thirty seconds, the sliding doors inched open, allowing a bespectacled and stern-looking shinigami lady to glare out at him.

"Kurosaki, you say?"

"Uh, yeah."

Ichigo craned his head, trying to get a peek inside the office, but the woman stood on tiptoes to keep their eyes level. She then chanced a quick look back, before turning to regard the bemused individual before her. He noticed that a single strand of hair had slipped to dangle before her nose.

"The captain will be with you in just a moment."

Then she shut the screen in his face.

There came more whispering and shuffling, followed by the sound of doors slamming, and several curious noises that did not conjure up anything specific to Ichigo's mind. A deep male voice chuckled, and someone hissed an admonition.

The portal opened. The woman swept out and bowed before him, gesturing with her arm that he may enter.


He crossed the threshold, and she closed it behind him.

Captain Kyōraku Shunsui smiled from his seat on the floor, clothes slightly askew on his big frame. His posture was loose, his eyes were glazed, and his left hand was firmly anchored to the tatami mat, almost as if Shunsui feared that were he to let go, he might be launched into the atmosphere.

"Come in, Ichigo-san! Please, sit down!"

The smell of hastily applied air-freshener hung heavy in the room. A more intoxicating aroma was mixed in with it. As he sat on the offered cushion Ichigo found that he could not place the third scent, which reminded him equally of locker rooms and his friend Mizuiro for some reason.

Before him, Kyōraku Shunsui suddenly tilted his head at an odd angle.

"How'd you do that?" he mumbled faintly.

Ichigo's brow creased in consternation. "Pardon?"

"How'd you perform Usutsemi while sitting down? I thought you had to move to create clones of yoursel…"

"Captain!" the raven-haired woman spoke sharply from her place by the wall. "Please focus on the matter at hand, if you would."

The pink-garbed god remained unruffled by her tone, and proceeded to turn a slow, goofy smile in her general direction.

"I luv youuuuuuuuu…" he slurred, hat now being in danger of sliding off his head.

Staring bemusedly and somewhat embarrassedly at this scene, Ichigo was shocked when something beneath him began to vibrate.

"WHAT THE HELL!" he shouted, springing up.

"Who now?" the captain glanced blearily about.

"Please, no cause for alarm," the lieutenant stepped quickly forward. "Let me get you a new pillow, that one is obviously not suitable for…"

Before she could reach him, Ichigo stuck a hand beneath the offending cushion, and withdrew something that resembled a banana plunged into a grapefruit.

He held the buzzing and slimy implement in his fist.

"What the hell is this?"

The woman was clenching her jaw so tight she might actually break it. But Shunsui opened his mouth with practiced ease.

"THAT, my good sir, is Nanao-chan's zanpakutō."

He then keeled over in an unconscious heap, leaving the two people left in the room to stare at each other.

Division 7: Sajin Komamura

Hearing a commotion of some sort, Ichigo Kurosaki turned a corner.

Before him, Yoruichi-cat was sitting atop a shed, hissing furiously, fur standing on end.

Parked by the shed, Captain Sajin Komamura was down on all fours, barking furiously up at her.

After watching over a minute of howling and spitting, Ichigo turned and walked away.

Division 6: Byakuya Kuchiki


Legs folded beneath him, hands resting in his lap, Byakuya Kuchiki was determined to give no ground in this matter.

Standing before this immutable and majestic presence, Ichigo felt his eye twitch.

"But nii-sama," Rukia protested. "He's changed, he really has."


Byakuya's lips hardly moved. He almost looked like a ventriloquist's dummy, so stiff and wooden were his features.

"Ichigo has risked his life on numerous occasions."


Flat. Dispassionate. Uncaring.

"He defeated the entire Hollow nation single-handed!"


The grey eyes did not leave Ichigo's face for a moment.

"He saved all of Soul Society!"


They never blinked.

"He carried me, wounded and near death, out of Hueco Mundo on his back, through a field of boiling lava, fighting off ten vasto lorde, three renegade captains, his own inner Hollow, and the armies of the damned, with one arm broken, a sword through his head, and boulders chained to his feet!"


The boy in question was starting to feel his control slipping. At any moment, he would transform into Hollow Ichigo, and blow that smug superior look off the other man's face.

"Nii-sama!" Rukia huffed, crossing her arms in frustration.



As Hollow Ichigo lunged forward, Rukia caught him by the hair, and proceeded to drag him from the room. She reflected that the long mane made this much easier to accomplish than usual.


Byakuya appeared undisturbed by this crass display. As the door shut behind them, he heard his sister's voice.

"We'll ask him later, he's usually in a better mood after he has his tea."

The sounds of vulgarity and mollification diminished in the distance.

Before he returned to his paperwork, the lord's keen hearing picked out one last sentence clearly.

"Ichigo, stop picking at your Hollow hole! You're just going to make it worse!"

Division 5: Aizen Sōsuke

The two men sat quietly in seiza position facing one another.

They watched each other.

The tea was growing cold before them.

Slowly. Very, very slowly…

Aizen smiled.

Just as slowly, precisely as slowly…

Ichigo returned the smile.

They smiled at each other for almost a minute.



Another minute.


Then Ichigo gave a start.

"What was that?"

"I didn't hear anything." Aizen smiled.

The other man's eyes darted about the room, searching. Finally, after a few moments of cautious examination, he returned his attention to the eerily calm figure seated ten feet before him.

Aizen continued to smile. He had very perfect white teeth.

Suddenly Ichigo leapt up with a curse.

"You tickled me!" he yelled.

"I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about, Ichigo." The captain's smile never faltered. "I was sitting here the whole time. You saw me."

The shinigami deputy's head jerked from side to side. He began to prowl about the comfortably stocked quarters, never letting his attention stray from his host. Aizen remained where he was, following Ichigo with his eyes.

His carrot-topped comrade yelped and leapt straight into the air. Upon landing, he spun one way, then another, before swinging around to turn a trembling, accusing stare at Aizen.


"Won't you sit down and drink your tea, Ichigo-san?" The smile remained undiminished. "I think it would do wonders for your nerves."

Sputtering and shaking, Ichigo looked ready to go ban-kai on the spot, when he abruptly clapped his hand to one ear, yelled mightily, and tore out of the room.

Aizen watched him leave.

When he was assured that the boy was long gone, he spoke.

"Shatter, Kyōka Suigetsu."

His shikai dissolved, and suddenly there was another person in the room.

"That was fun, Aizen-sama!"

The captain now turned a more relaxed and friendly grin on his subordinate.

"What was the last one?" he spoke curiously.

In response, Momo Hinamori stuck one finger in her mouth and withdrew it with a pop.

"Wet Willy!"

"Ah," he nodded sagely. "I see."

The miniscule lieutenant then smirked mischievously.

"But do you know, Aizen-sama?"

She began to advance on him, glistening digit upraised menacingly, and Aizen recoiled in sudden consternation.

"Momo-kun! No! I command you! Bad Momo-kun! Bad!"

A few moments later, another howl broke the night.

Division 4: Retsu Unohana

Ichigo turned his head.

On the left, Yumichika Ayasegawa.

He turned it again.

On the right, Tetsuzaemon Iba.

He faced forward.

Stretching out on either side of him were two long lines of patiently waiting hot-blooded males.

No one spoke.

Ichigo had experienced this type of situation before. The constrained demeanors, the ritualistic silence, the almost palpable levels of testosterone. Not unlike being about to run onto a field to participate in a championship football game.

A low moan reverberated through the waiting area, and every man tensed.

Except he had never been on the football team, Ichigo lamented. He had, however, been dragged into a strip club, fake id's and all, by his perpetually adolescent friend Keigo Asano. The atmosphere in that place could only be described as depressing, but there was something similar here, he had to admit.

One minute later, a beaming Renji Abarai stumbled out into the light. The look of ebullient satisfaction on his features left every other man in the room both envious and anxious as they watched him depart the grounds of the Fourth division.

This event was nothing like the real-world equivalent he was familiar with. This, Ichigo reflected, was more like waiting in line at a county fair kissing booth.

The curtain at the end of the hall parted. Retsu Unohana now stood in the doorframe, fresh-faced and glowing. Her eyes were half-shut, there was an almost imperceptible flush in her cheeks, and she was wearing surgical gloves.

"Next please," her soft voice caressed their ears, sending tingles down their spines. At this, Harunobu Ogidō stood and moved to pass into the curtained alcove. His captain followed, letting the obscuring drape fall once more and leaving the rest of them to their woefully inadequate imaginations.

The healer goddess' next faint words seemed to penetrate to the very depths of their collective manhood.

"Just relax and undo your obi."

Several uninitiated younger members let out cries of burgeoning intensity, as if they were about to reach their peak.

Ichigo, however, continued staring straight ahead. He focused his gaze above the perspiring faces of a group of men opposite him, at a sign on the wall. He concentrated on it, fighting the cold sweat that was taking him over, fearing the inevitable violation of his being that was coming, worse than any paltry efforts by his inner Hollow.

The sign read as follows:

"Mandatory full physical checkups for all shinigami today. Courtesy of the Fourth division. Practice your cough."

Unohana's command swept away any and all calm that he had in reserve.

"Please bend over and spread your cheeks. Don't be concerned, I have a very gentle touch."

Ichigo put his head between his ankles and tried taking deep, soothing breaths.

The voice he heard next belonged to Isane Kotetsu.

"Ogidō-san, didn't I already give you a check-up this morning?"

Her only response was a brief yowl.

Division 3: Gin Ichimaru

Renji and Ichigo both stopped when they saw Gin Ichimaru coming down the street towards them.

The superior officer drew to a halt a few paces away, smiling as always.

They eyed him with revulsion and disbelief.

Finally Renji cleared his throat. "Ichimaru-taichou…"

The slithering serpent's cheeks bunched up under his eyes. "Yes, Abarai-san?"

Renji glowered, an uncomfortable shudder crawling across his skin.

"Why are you covered in blood?"

Gin cocked an eyebrow. Looking down at his crimson stained robes, he gave a start, as if not realizing that he was drenched practically head to foot in gore. Then, giving every impression of casual nonchalance, he raised his head, scratched behind one ear, and sniffed innocently.

"I was killing a pig."

Both men found their hands inching down towards their soul cutters.

"Killing… a pig?" Ichigo grated from between jaws clamped shut.

Fresh from the hen-house, the fox bared his teeth. "Yes! A very… fat oinker. Oh, he made a lot of noise, and took a long time to die!"

They were both ready to draw.

"If you have any questions on the subject, you need only ask…"

And Ichimaru waved behind them.

"Lieutenant Kira!"

The duo glanced back swiftly. Halfway down the lane, they could see the officer in question freeze, his back to them, apparently trying to make his escape before anyone could notice him.

Ichimaru beckoned, and almost as though he were on a leash, Izuru Kira retracted back to that spot. His captain's hand came down on his shoulder, and he stood like a man carrying the weight of the world, face downturned, gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

"Tell the gentlemen what you know, Kira, there's a good lad!"

The quivering frame gave a mighty shudder.

"Ichimaru-taichou was… killing a pig," he whispered hoarsely.

Renji peered disbelievingly at his old classmate. "EH?"

"HE WAS KILLING A PIG!" Kira's head shot up, hair flying, lips twitching. "KILLING A PIG, I TELL YOU, JUST KILLING A PIG!"

Both junior officers drew back from this display, while Gin merely clapped the mad-eyed shinigami on the back.

"There, you see? In fact, Izuru here promised to help me eat the pig later!"

The blonde lunatic blinked several times. "I did?" he rasped.

"That's right." His smiling captain turned the full force of his sociopathic features on him. "There won't be a shred of that pig left, will there, Kira, my boy?"

The head sunk down again. "No, sir."

"Run along now, Kira."

The adjutant obeyed.

All three watched him shamble mindlessly down the street.

Gin sighed. "You know, the first time I laid eyes on that boy shrieking and blubbering and pissing his pants, I said to myself, Gin, that's the man I want as my lieutenant! Yes, that's just what I thought."

He began to whistle, and walked off in the opposite direction.

Division 2: Soifon

Ichigo screeched to a halt, back pressed against the garden wall. His breath was coming in short gasps. The cold night air felt like a dagger in his lungs. He had been running for hours through this maze. Blood leaked from a hole in his back, and a cut over his left eye. He wiped it away, trying to clear his vision.

The stars shone down overhead. Taking a firm grip on Zangetsu, the hunted death god crept quietly down the lane. Approaching a junction in the garden labyrinth, he hung back a few moments, trying to still his racing heart.

When he felt somewhat more confident, Ichigo Kurosaki chanced a slow, cautious glance around the edge of the hedge.

There was nothing.

No movement. No pursuers.

He relaxed with a grateful sigh.

Then the wall of vegetation behind him swung backward on silent hinges. A hand seized his throat, a knife flashed three times, jab jab jab, and the red-haired hero fell to the ground dead, heart pumping its contents onto the terraced path.

Soifon stepped out into the light, cleaning off her blade. Several shadowy figures came out to join her.

"And that's how we'd do it," she stated precisely.

They all nodded in consent.

Their superior made a show of arranging her clothing. "See to the disposal of the gigai."

Just as they were bending down to obey, Ichigo Kurosaki rounded a corner and spotted them.

"Finally!" he exclaimed, breaking into a run. "I've been lost for hours in this garden maze, I was looking for the bathroom and wandered in here by mistake. You might not think it, but I've got practically zero spiritual awareness. I mean, unless somebody's dying, you can pretty much count on me not having a clue as to what's going on."

Upon catching sight of his own face covered in blood, Ichigo drew up short.


Soifon hefted her weapon. "You've seen too much!" she hissed, and dove for his eyes.

Ichigo screamed.

Division 1: Yamamoto-Genryūsai Shigekuni

The old man didn't move.

Ichigo sniffed, peering at the leader of the afterlife's military arm.

The wrinkle-wrapped eyes remained closed.

Reaching out, the boy gave one shoulder a tentative poke.

The bald graybeard collapsed to the side of his chair, sprawling over one arm.

The smell grew worse.

Ichigo coughed, and then turned back to regard the other captains.

"Deep in thought, my ASS!" he shouted. "This guy's dead!"