Secret Memo Number Nineteen – Safe Zone

The temerity of that dishonourable scoundrel, Tsukishima Shukuro, defies belief. That he violated the sanctity of my very past by underhandedly inserting himself into my history is a crime that merits death by slow boiling in the poorest-quality cooking oil, after which he should be fed to swine like the pigs the fat Shiba and his friends are always stampeding around on.

How dare that worthless nobody invite himself retrospectively to all the training sessions I have ever undergone? How dare he arrange events so as to be able to claim that I had revealed to him the most intimate details of my combat techniques? And worst of all – that he would then proceed to invade my snug 80-centimetre personal space at the very moment I unleashed my beautiful cherry blossom blades, to keep himself safe from their lethal edges!

That flea got off lightly. I have an urge to track him down and flatten him underfoot like the parasite he is before deep-frying him to an artery-clogging crisp.

I might, however, consider boiling him in a marginally better grade of cooking oil than the worst – a small concession in return for the good idea he has given me regarding an excellent use for my Safe Zone: I can engineer a patrol with Renji in which we get drawn into a ferocious fight with some enemy sufficiently dangerous for me to justify the use of my bankai – and I shall then order Renji into my personal space for his own safety. Eighty centimetres will be a tight fit for a strapping lad like him – he will have to press himself up against my back to keep every inch of his delicious skin intact. And I should have no trouble convincing him that wrapping his arms around me will keep us both stable in the zone.

Additional note to self: Bring Rukia along. She's tiny enough to fit right in there with us.