Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Failed attempt at humour.

Permanent Markers

Matsumoto Rangiku strolled through the bustling hallways of the Tenth Division, greeting Shinigami as she went. For some reason, they looked nervous and amused at the same time, and kept exchanging glances between one another. She turned a corner, intending to crash into the office's comfy, comfy couch. Seriously, it's so damn comfortable, it should be a law to have at least one couch like that in every office. She bumped into the paperwork-carrying Fifth-Seat, who was grinning a very big grin, which faltered slightly at the sight of the beautiful woman.

"Hey, Hayate," she greeted.

"Matsumoto," he greeted back. His eyes flicked back to the office he had just come out of. "Um, it's not a good idea to go to the office right now. . ."

"Why?" she inquired.

He paused for a moment before saying quite bluntly, "The Lieutenant's drunk."

She stilled. "What?"

"The Lieutenant is drunk."

Drunk? No, that's not possible. Sure, she and a few other her other (drunk) friends tried to make him drink saké on a few occasions, but she knew that he was stubborn and responsible enough to refuse it. It was fun watching that disapproving frown and threatening icy glare scare the shit out of her fellow colleagues – all of whom are taller than him by more than a foot and definitely weight twice as much. For him to actually drink the saké. . .

The Captain was going to kill her.

She glowered at Hayate. "And why exactly is the Lieutenant drunk?"

He shrugged. "Seventh-Seat Takezoe was the first to notice. Apparently, it was too funny to stop." His grin returned. He looked like a black-haired, less-creepy version of Ichimaru Gin.

She frowned even harder. "The Lieutenant is underage. We could be in trouble with the Captain-Commander is this gets out."

He winked. "Don't worry. Everyone in the Division already knows – except for the Captain – but this isn't getting to the Captain-Commander." He shifted his load of paperwork. "Um, I need to get this to the new recruits. . . "

Taking the hint, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand and watched as he snickered at some mental image from his mind.

She had to admit, the way everyone was acting was making her curious. Was it really that funny? Maybe she could take a few pictures for the SWA. Reaching into her cleavage and taking out the SWA-issued camcorder (only to be used if something scandalous pops up!), she sauntered into the Captain's office and prepared herself for her Lieutenant's surprisingly-strong yelling voice.

Matsumoto slid the door open, camera ready.

She dropped the camcorder. (Damn, if it broke, she was so not going to pay for it.)

She couldn't believe her eyes. Her mouth couldn't believe it too, because it was hanging wide open for the flies to dash in.

There, leaning against the couch, were the almost-nude figures of Lieutenants Hisagi Shuuhei and Kira Izuru.

Doodling on their unconscious bodies with a permanent marker was her short, white-haired Lieutenant, Hitsugaya Toushirou.

Bottles of saké littered the floor and parts of the ceiling (how that happened, she had no idea). The uniforms of the two Lieutenants were strewn across the room. The paperwork, usually so neat and orderly on the Lieutenant's desk, was in a disarray. A forgotten teacup lay sideways on the floor, spilling its contents on the normally-polished wood.

HItsugaya was extremely concentrated on drawing pictures on Hisagi's face. A big red swirl dominated his right cheek, while his forehead was dotted with numerous obscene kanji. He had a well-drawn mustache adorning his upper lip, while his lower lip consisted of a goat beard that looked a lot like Captain Kurosaki Isshin's.

She slowly picked up her camcorder, closing her jaw in the process. With shaking hands, she took a picture of Hitsugaya's artwork on Kira's body (the giant Chappy face on Kira's chest was extremely well-drawn). She took another one just to be safe. And another one. Next, she turned to her Lieutenant and took a picture of him scribbling humongous eyelashes on Hisagi.

Never lifting his eyes from his victim, Hitsugaya said, "Hello, Matsumoto."

Matsumoto jumped, eyes wide, fingers clutching the device in her hand like a lifeline. "Oh, ah – "

"I am perfectly aware of what I am doing," he continued. "I am also aware that most – if not all – of the Division had taken at least one look at these two idiot's faces. I have no intention of stopping. They get drunk, they trash the Captain's office, and they pay the price." He finished one last lash and replaced his pink marker with a purple one.

As of now, Matsumoto bore a striking resemblance to a constipated fish. "Lieutenant. . . Are. . . Are you drunk?"

"Yes," he answered evenly. "The aforementioned idiots had the nerve to spike my tea with saké. As you know, I am very sensitive to saké, which is why I never drink the stuff in the first place."

"You are?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Let this be a lesson, Matsumoto." He started drawing the Seaweed Ambassador on Hisagi's well-toned chest. "Remember this if you have the urge to get me drunk again."

Pfft. She will never forget this scene. Even if she tried. Which she won't.

Hitsugaya finished drawing a giant kanji for a very bad swear word on Hisagi's back and started with a dancing cricket on his left thigh. After that, he drew a bunch of random Soul Candy mascots on his right leg.

"Where did you learn to draw that kanji?"

"I spend a lot of time with drunks." He threw her a meaningful glare. For the first time, she noticed the slight rosiness of his cheeks and the way his eyes kept darting from one place to another in a hyperactive way. Finishing his sketch of King, he put away his set of markers (a gift from Hinamori a few years ago – she had this weird notion that he liked to draw, which might actually be true) and admired his work on the two suckers. "I think this will send the message. Or at the very least, no more drunk people in the office for a few months."

Matsumoto raised her camcorder once again, took several photographs of Hisagi, and one that had both of the Lieutenants together. When she lowered the camcorder, she had a wild grin on her face. "The SWA is going to be rich."

Hitsugaya nodded. "Yes. Do me a favour and sell those photographs as soon as possible." He touched the hilt of his ever-present Zanpakutou and summoned four small icicles and two bigger ones. With no hesitation whatsoever, he shoved the icicles into Hisagi's nostrils and mouth. He repeated the process with Kira. He waited for a total of one minute and thirty-seven seconds before the two Lieutenants woke up and tried to pull out the icicles blocking their airways. Hitsugaya waved his hand, melting the icicles.

"Wh-whuu. . .?" Hisagi turned green and, snatching the bucket that Hitsugaya placed beside him, threw up the contents of his stomach.

Kira similar reactions, although his vomiting was less violent that Hisagi's.

After heaving for a few minutes, they looked at each other and screamed in a not-so-manly way.

"You – "

"Your face – "

"What – "

"Chappy. . .?"

"Seaweed Ambassador. . .?"

"WHAT THE HELL?"

Matsumoto giggled. She had switched to video camera just in time to record their reactions. Nanao is going to worship me when I give this to her. . .

Hitsugaya stood up and said, "Please clean up your mess and leave my Division as soon as possible." With that, he gracefully strode out of the room, no signs of intoxication whatsoever.

"Hey, Matsumoto, I saw Lieutenant Hitsugaya – " Abarai Renji stopped. His jaw dropped at the sight before him. Predictably, his initial shock was replaced with uncontrollable laughter. "Wha – What in Soul Society happened to you?"

"It was Kuchiki, wasn't it?" Hisagi cried. He pointed at Kira's Chappy. "No one's more obsessed with Chappy than her!" He winced, and held his head. "Ow."

"No, that looks too good to be Rukia." The Sixth-Seat of the Eleventh Division pulled a pile of paperwork from behind his back. "Anyway, I need to give this to Lieutenant Hitsugaya, but he looked kind of weird when I passed him." He nimbly navigated through the maze of bottles and dropped the papers on Hitsugaya's desk.

The two Lieutenants froze. Drunken memories, resurfaced – including the spiking of Hitsugaya's tea. They swung their gazes at Matsumoto, asking a silent question.

Said Shinigami smirked. "Yep. That was revenge." She waved her camcorder. "Now, if you'll excuse me. . ." She skipped out of the room, holding her camcorder with almost-reverence.

The pictures and videos sold out the next day.

Both Kuchikis disapproved of the fact that Chappy and the Seaweed Ambassador were drawn on such undignified bodies – but even they had to admit that it was very well-drawn.

Kurosaki Isshin praised his Lieutenant for his artistic revenge. He felt no need to hunt down the two Lieutenants for getting Hitsugaya drunk anymore.

The Captain-Commander did nothing. Although, he did buy several copies of the photographs and videos.

Hisagi Shuuhei and Kira Izuru never lived it down.

End