Author's Note: Here, as promised, is my new fic, which I will be updating spordically as opposed to systematically, as Shattered Ice is my current priority. This is more for comic relief to loosen up the tension in my other compositions, so enjoy! (And before we get started, I suppose it'd be useful to let you know that Ouji is a formal title for a prince.)

"God dammit! We're going to be late, and it's all your fault!"

"Shut up! Nothing's my fault! You're the one who slept in!"

"Oh, be quiet! I worked extra hours yesterday! I need my rest too, you know!"

Two male figures were rushing down a flight of stairs, both dressed in plain black kimonos. As they ran along, they stumbled occasionally, bickering and shoving as they did so. Both of them were servants in the palace.

The first was Abarai Renji. His red hair was usually pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of the way while he worked, and he tended to be a little hot-headed at times. Too hot-headed for his own good.

The second was Kurosaki Ichigo. He, like his redheaded friend, was quick to anger and often argued within the palace. He had been working in the palace for as long as he knew. His parents were long dead, and they, too, had been servants to the emperor of Soul Society, and having nowhere else to go, Ichigo had become an addition to the long line of Kurosakis who had served the emperor by default. He didn't get paid, being a servant, but he, like the rest of his fellow workers, were well-fed, well-clothed, and as far as he knew, like the majority of the rest of the servants, Ichigo was desperately and direly in love with the young crown prince.

Now, the little prince was a boy by the name of Hitsugaya Toshiro. The emperor, Yamamoto Genryusai, was not directly related to him. Young Hitsugaya was only a second-grandson-twice-removed or something of the sort, which would explain their different family names. At any rate, he was the only remaining person suitable of being the heir of the elderly emperor, and as far as everyone was concerned, with his snow-white hair, fair complexion, and icy aquamarine eyes, he had the prettiest face in all of Soul Society.

As Ichigo and Renji burst through the doors to the throne room, they both instantly began to babble, straining to make their voices heard over the other's.

"I'm sorry, Yamamoto-sama! Forgive my disrespectful tardiness!"

"I'm way sorrier than he is, Your Highness!"

The bearded emperor stared at the two youg men before speaking. "Very well, I shall forgive your late arrival today. Abarai-san?"

"Yes, Your Highness?" Renji inquired, snapping to attention.

"The floors in the western hallway need scrubbing."

Renji inwardly groaned in disappointment. Scrubbing duty, second only to bathroom duty, was the least desired job because it required the worker to grovel on all fours like dogs on the dirty ground.

"Yes, sir."

"And, Kurosaki-san."

"Yes, Yamamoto-sama?" Ichigo responded, following his redheaded friend's example.

"You can go help Abarai-san."

Ichigo opened and closed his mouth, wanting to protest, but with a compliant mutter, sulked out of the room with Renji trailing grudgingly behind.

Shortly afterwards, both of them had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows and were scrubbing sullenly at the dirty floor in the indicated hallway.

"Thanks a lot, strawberry," Renji grunted as he plunged a sponge into a bucket of soapy water. "We got scrubbing duty."

"Hey, be grateful we don't have to clean the toilet bowls," Ichigo retorted as he rubbed furiously at a scuff mark on the floor that refused to fade.

"Grateful? Shut up! It's your fault, anyway, dumbass!" Renji retorted.

"Hey, hey!" Ichigo hissed in protest. "Keep your language clean, will you? He's coming this way!"

"Who?"

"Who else? The prince, of course, you idiot!"

Both of the young men instantly shut their mouths, pretending to be immersed in their scrubbing work. Cautiously, Ichigo looked up the slightest from the soap suds, catching sight of the prince himself, who, despite his nobility in society, was dressed in a fairly plain kimono in a color similar to his hair, with a simple grey design running up the length of the side. Ichigo noted that he looked particularly pretty for some reason in such drab attire. He didn't need fancy clothes to look good all the time.

"G-Good morning, Ouji-sama," Ichigo managed to stammer as Hitsugaya walked by.

"Good morning, Kurosaki-kun," the boy answered, stopping briefly to bow.

"Uh…There's no need to be so polite to someone like me," Ichigo muttered. "I mean, well, you know…I'm just a servant."

"I don't mind," the prince answered plainly. "Servant or not, you're still a person."

"Ouji-sama, you're so kind," Renji sniffed. "I'm moved to tears!"

The orange-haired teen sent a swift death glare in his friend's direction. No way was he going to get a leg up on him with such petty sweet talk.

"The floors are slippery from us cleaning it, Ouji-sama," Ichigo continued quickly. "May I have the honor of escorting you to your destination?"

"Don't trouble yourself," Hitsugaya replied. "I'll manage by myself. There's no need to be so uptight with me, either. Simply addressing me by my family name would suffice."

"Are you sure, Your Highness, I mean, uh, Hitsugaya-sama?"

"I'm sure."

With these words, Hitsugaya disappeared down the hallway, with Ichigo staring longingly at his retreating back like the lovesick teenager he was.

"The prince is really something, isn't he?" Ichigo sighed as soon as the prince had exited the room and was out of earshot. "He's so dignified, and he's really pretty, too…"

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel about him already?" Renji snorted. "Are you a man or not? Just go confess your 'eternal love' or whatever for him."

"Hell, no!" the strawberry retorted angrily. "For god's sake, Renji, he's a prince! And, well…I'm just a servant. Anyways, he can only marry someone from royalty, right? I don't stand a chance."

"Speaking of which," the redhead answered, "I heard the emperor talking the other day to some dude from the council. I think they're planning on marrying that Hitsugaya kid off while he's still young and pretty."

"Eh!? That's not fair!"

"Shut up! You're the one who said you didn't stand a chance, anyways!"

"But, still…" Ichigo whined.

"The point is," Renji continued, "The palace is gonna be flooded with suitors pretty soon, I mean just look at…Hold on…What's that noise?"

Sure enough, a distant rumbling of what sounded like hundreds of footsteps were thundering closer and closer. Alarmed, both servants glanced down the hall, only to see a large crowd of various noblemen, kings, princes, lords, dukes, and so on and so forth thundering towards them.

"Shit!" Renji squeaked. "Let's get out of here!"

Both of them snatched up their sponges and water buckets, scrambling down the hall, tossing the cleaning materials into a nearby closet before dashing for the safety of the throne room.

"Your Highness!" Renji shouted as the two burst in. "There's a bunch of…"

"Ah, yes," Yamamoto nodded, stroking his beard. "I knew they'd be coming today."

"Who?"

"Why, suitors of course. They've come to court our prince, I suppose."

Hitsugaya, who had been standing by Yamamoto, looked slightly alarmed at this. He blinked, looking downwards but saying nothing. Ichigo swallowed, wondering what the prince was thinking.

Moments later, the doors to the throne room burst open, and the crowds of suitors squeezed through the small entry way, all making a beeline straight for the hapless prince.

"Good afternoon, dearest little prince," the first man to arrive spoke who had brown hair and glasses. He knelt at Hitsugaya's feet, taking his hand and kissing its delicate backside. "I am Sosuke Aizen, King of Hueco Mundo."

With a look of utter revulsion, Hitsugaya withdrew his hand.

"That son of a…!" Ichigo growled. "The hell does he think he is, kissing Ouji-sama's hand so shamelessly like that! Why, I ought to break his freaking glasses!"

Needless to say, Renji was using all his strength to restrain the fuming strawberry as suitor upon suitor bore down upon his beloved prince.

"My dearest prince," Aizen continued, "It is my honor to ask you…"

"Forget about him!" another man in a straw hat with bright pink (and very manly) robes shouted gleefully, shoving the man named Aizen aside. "Sweet prince, I am Kyoraku Shunsui, and I have composed a romantic poem to recite to you today…"

He was dragged off by the ear by a rather intimidating-looking woman in spectacles, despite the poor man's loud protests and whining, only to be replaced seconds later by another man with long white hair.

"Most esteemed Prince," he began, "My name is Ukitake Jushiro, and with these various confections and candies…" At this point, he brandished a large box full of assorted chocolates that looked rather expensive, "I would humbly like to ask for your hand in mar-"

Another man shoved his way past, saying nothing but merely holding out a miniscule cherry blossom towards the overwhelmed-looking Hitsugaya.

"Who the hell is that!?" Ichigo fumed, writhing about and trying to escape Renji's restraining grip. "Who the hell's that stingy bastard who thinks a puny flower like that is worth Ouji-sama's attention!?"

"Calm down, will you!?" Renji hissed. "That's Kuchiki Byakuya-sama! He's from one of the four noble families! The biggest fish in the ocean! You want to die!? Then go on ahead and keep insulting him!"

"So many suitors for our little prince," Yamamoto mused. "In that case," he announced loudly, "I propose a contest…And the winner will have the prince's hand in marriage."

"A contest?" Ichigo repeated, opening and closing his mouth stupidly like a mentally retarded goldfish. "Oh, so what now?" he scoffed, "Ouji-sama's just some kind of prize to win now? That's ridiculous! That's so freaking unfair for Ouji-sama! He should get to pick himself, I mean, what if some lousy idiot wins? Come to think of it, all of them are lousy idiots, and I bet I could make a way better husband than any of them!"

"I said, shut up! You want the emperor to hear you or something?" Renji snapped.

Yamamoto glanced at the two. "Very well," he said, "If you think that you are indeed so worthy of the prince's hand in marriage, then I challenge you to participate in this contest."

"H-hold on!" Ichigo protested, horrified. "I never said I wanted to-"

"Alright," Yamamoto went on brightly as if Ichigo hadn't spoken, "That's settled then! Now, gentlemen, which ones of you will participate?"

Aizen, Byakuya, Ukitake, and Kyoraku all stepped forward, and then Ichigo reluctantly followed their example.

"Oh, no, you're not!" the bespectacled woman growled, grabbing poor Kyoraku by the collar and dragging him off. "You're not going to participate in any contest!"

"But, Nanao-chan…"

"Shut up!"

As they disappeared from sight, Yamamoto blinked. "Well, then that just leaves Aizen-san, Kuchiki-san, Ukitake-san…and Kurosaki-san. I must warn you though, gentlemen, this little contest will be no easy task. You must have exceptional skills, and it may even be dangerous."

Hitsugaya looked a little surprised at this, and as instructed, all of the said men took turns shaking Hitsugaya's hand (or, in Aizen's case, once again kissed his hand, much to Ichigo's anger), and properly introducing themselves.

As Ichigo hesitantly took his turn, he could have sworn Hitsugaya mutter under his breath, "You'd better win, Kurosaki-kun."