Title: On Forming Diplomatic Relations with the Eleventh Division
Universe: Bleach
Theme/Topic: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Kenpachi, Byakuya (Ikkaku, Yumichika, and Yachiru too of course)
Warnings/Spoilers: Stupid and OOC and pointlessness.
Word Count: 1,137
Summary: Byakuya and Kenpachi get as civil as they know how.
Dedication: Happy birthday, cheloya! Sorry I am so lame and out of practice, but maybe this will I don't know, reopen doors for me or something. Also, is it even still the 26th in Australia? TIMEZONE FAIL.
A/N: Holy god I don't know what I'm doing anymore.
Disclaimer: No harm is meant by this!

Zaraki's forehead is bleeding from a wide gash cut into the flesh just above his eyebrow, blood from the wound trickling down in a dark red stream over the eleventh division captain's single exposed eye and running along his cheek and lip and chin before dripping off of the edge of his jaw to stain the white shoulder of his captain's coat crimson. Byakuya sees it when Kenpachi's tongue darts out to taste the fresh blood as it slides over his lip. It makes him grin as though the flavor pleases him.

Byakuya makes a face when he witnesses the act; how uncouth. How like Zaraki.

In addition to the aforementioned forehead wound, Byakuya assesses that Zaraki's left arm is also useless now, dangling at his side and broken from the impact of smashing through Byakuya's last powerful kidou binding spell. There are also a million glistening slashes all along the big captain's chest and shoulders, from where shards of Senbonzakura had managed to cut through Zaraki's protective aura of reiatsu to bite the flesh below. During their last clash, Byakuya also remembers making Zaraki vomit blood when he hit him, which suggests internal hemorrhaging of some sort as well.

And yet, despite that laundry list of injuries, Zaraki stands, sturdy as ever, grinning stupidly at Byakuya and almost begging for more.

Byakuya takes a shaky breath and notes his own injuries with care in the meantime—both the visible and invisible ones. There are at least three broken ribs to deal with on one side of his body, as well as the charred edges of his scarf from where the cloth had somehow melted into the skin around his neck, probably due to the excessive heat raised from one of their earlier exchanges. A shallow cut extending from the top of one shoulder down across his chest to the jut of his hipbone continues to bleed slowly despite the fact that contact with Zaraki's overpowering reiatsu seems to have cauterized most of it already.

He can also taste blood in the inside of his mouth from where he's cut his cheek open against his back teeth, and the shaky muscles in his arms can barely grip the hilt of his zanpakutou after the tremendous weight behind each and every one of Zaraki's unwieldy blows had cut his stamina in half.

Such is, he supposes, the price of trying to deal with the eleventh division on the eleventh division's terms.

This kind of thing is probably the closest thing to diplomacy Zaraki and his brethren will ever allow in their halls, and for now, it is all Byakuya has to work with if the court ever wants Zaraki to listen to any of their requests at all.

In the meantime, the sixth division captain struggles to stay standing.

"Aw, don't tell me you're about ready to give, Kuchiki-hime," Zaraki taunts from across the courtyard, as he continues to bleed all over the floor without really noticing. "There's still six points left that you wanted to discuss, ain't there?"

"Seven, taichou," Ayasegawa goseki chimes in from the comfortable shade of the porch, helpful as ever as he holds Byakuya's annotated list in elegant fingers while Yachiru bounces impatiently in his lap. Ikkaku lounges next to the pair, drinking from a gourd of sake and looking highly interested in the events as each one unfolds in front of him. What Byakuya presumes is a hand-made spinner sits at his side.

Zaraki seems buoyed by the news that there is more left to discuss than he'd originally anticipated. "Seven left, hime. Or are you just gonna give 'em to me on account of your delicate sensibilities?"

Byakuya sniffs and stands up straighter, refusing to bow to Zaraki's petty taunts as he holds Senbonzakura in an offensive position. "I am ready," he answers imperiously, and begins to gather his reiatsu for the next round.

"Good to hear," Kenpachi snorts, amused by Kuchiki's stuck up attitude as he turns back to the patio. "Yumichika! Hurry the hell up."

"Of course, taichou," Yumichika responds, looking bored as he moves to read from the list again. "Point number seventeen on Kuchiki-taichou's list of motions. Kusajishi-fukutaichou is not to be allowed out of the barracks unaccompanied any time after dark."

A beat.

Zaraki scoffs when he hears. "What, really?"

Byakuya moves to clarify, because it definitely isn't an issue of child-safety. "To prevent as much property damage as possible," he explains haughtily. "Especially given last month's destroyed city block incident."

Zaraki laughs. "Oh, you mean the giant dominos incident."

Yumichika eyes them both. "Your respective responses to the motion then, gentlemen?"

"Yea," Byakuya replies coolly.

"Nay," Zaraki counters instantly, probably more in anticipation of what's to come rather than from any actual opinion about the issue at hand.

"Well then, the issue will—as all the others before it have— be resolved by the terms agreed upon by both parties in a prior meeting," the fifth chair announces in an officious manner, before turning to Ikkaku expectantly.

Ikkaku grins, grabs the spinner, and flicks it.

When the arrow slows to a stop, it lands pointing on "Right Shoulder."

Ikkaku whoops. "Alright, first guy who draws blood on the opponent's right shoulder gets the motion."

Zaraki licks the blade of his sword in anticipation. "I ain't gonna let you have this one, Kuchiki."

Byakuya dissolves his zanpakutou into a million beautiful petals and allows a small, derisive smile in response. "I've already won half of the arguments, Zaraki-taichou."

"Still lost half of 'em too."

"Ready…set…go!!" Yachiru cheers a moment later, and gives the two captains the go-ahead to hurtle towards each other in a brilliant clash of yellow and pink and ground-shaking explosions.

Seconds after the thunderous wave of energy from their initial collision blows through the entire division headquarters and temporarily paralyzes all of the lesser seats in the vicinity, both captains get knocked backwards into opposite walls from the force of their impact against one another.

And as Byakuya hears the bones in his wrist snap in multiple places when he hits the barrier, he grunts to himself and supposes that this is simply what happens when you choose to deal with the eleventh division on the eleventh division's terms.

It is—for lack of better term— the heavy price of diplomatic relations with men like Zaraki Kenpachi.

When Byakuya hears Zaraki's answering reaction of "God fucking dammit!" after the larger captain checks his bleeding right shoulder a few seconds later, Byakuya smiles a little bit and congratulates himself on slowly getting better and better at making those uncouth eleventh division terms work for him in return.

On a completely unrelated side note, he's starting to think that getting to punch Zaraki in the face every now and again might be kind of fun too.

END