"Matsumoto."
Nothing.
Well, he hadn't been expecting much else, but still…
"Matsumoto!"
Again, nothing.
He continued to stare at the wooden panel on which the words 'Matsumoto Rangiku—keep out or feel my wrath' had been etched. He frowned. She really shouldn't have done that. It wasn't their property, and although he had so far managed to keep the knowledge of the vandalism from Orihime, it wouldn't be long before she noticed. Perhaps he should leave some money for her…
It was 11:30 – nearly midday, and the idiot still hadn't managed to haul herself out of bed. Honestly, there were some things that a captain really shouldn't have to do for his subordinates. He doubted any of the others had this problem.
Finally, he resorted to more under-hand tactics.
"Matsumoto! If you don't come out of there this instant, I'm going to water the pot plants with your sake! Don't think I don't know where you hide it! And speaking of the pot plants, Orihime entrusted their care to you, and I find it very interesting that since then, they've turned brown and wilted! So, in the interest of both your stamina and the plants' health, I suggest you remove your over-large corpse from your mattress and GET OUT HERE NOW!!"
There was a shuffling, a bump and a muffled curse, and the door opened to reveal a dishevelled and rather groggy-looking Vice-captain, her hair sticking up in random directions and her bright pink pyjamas skewed around her shoulders. Still half asleep and clearly annoyed, she pouted at her captain.
"Taaiiiichooo…you're so mean. You wouldn't really throw away my sake, would you? That would just be cruel." Her expression became dreamy, and air of longing entered her voice. "And you interrupted this wonderful dream I was just having: there was this fish floating through the air beside me, and it said it was magical and that it could turn me into a princess, and so I—"
"Shut up."
Her pout grew in magnitude.
"But Taaaiiicho—"
"I said shut up, Matsumoto. I don't want to know." Resisting the urge to strangle his ridiculous fukutaicho, he took a step back, intending to give her some room to move from the doorway and into the corridor.
She didn't move. Instead, she frowned at him for a moment, thankfully obeying his previous order, (even if it didn't last long) before her expression brightened again.
"Aw! You look so cute with that grumpy little frown on your face! I think I must have the most adorable taicho in the world! Everyone agrees. That's why people here love you so much; you look just like one of those elementary students, and everyone knows how cute they are—hey, where are you going…?"
"To water the plants."
She stared at his retreating back in horror, not quite believing what she'd heard. His shoulders were tensed in annoyance and though his walk was relatively casual, there was a stiffness in his gait that signalled purpose, and she knew in this state, there would be no persuading him against his evil plans.
"You wouldn't."
"You know very well that I would."
Shrieking, Matsumoto dashed past Hitsugaya, having difficulty squeezing past his small frame in the tight space provided, and after finally reaching the open layout of the living room, came to a stop by the large armchair that occupied a dark and somewhat secluded area of the flat. Upon reaching it, she flung out her arms, looking as if she might shield the furniture with her own life, her chest thrust out as the new target and her strawberry blonde hair hanging raggedly around her face. If not for the pyjamas, Hitsugaya might have believed that she were in battle, throwing herself in front of a companion in order to save them. The image was enough to make Hitsugaya's lips twitch upward slightly, but the look was gone almost as soon as it had come, replaced with his usual frown.
"I won't let you do it! It's murder, I tell you! Murder!"
Hitsugaya rolled his eyes as he strode in behind her, an eyebrow raised slightly in wry amusement.
"Thank you, Matsumoto. I didn't actually know if you had any sake here, but on the off-chance that you did…and it got you moving as well."
His smirk widened as he watched her face pale, and he started towards her. She took two hasty steps back, her arms still guarding the chair before she turned and dove into it, pulling back the cushions and scuffling around inside until a clinking noise reached his ears. As she was just about to make a break for it, heading for the front door, he flashed in front of her and stuck his foot out, relishing in the loud undignified squeak she made as she fell, sake bottles flying out of her grasp and into the small deft hands of Hitsugaya's.
Pulling herself out of her ungainly sprawl, she tried to plead with him, her eyes round and watering.
"Please, Hitsugaya-taicho. I'll be good; I'll get up every day; I'll do all the paperwork; I'll even do the cleaning." She said the word as if she were required to jump into hell to carry it out. "Just, please, don't take my sake from me."
Ignoring his prone fukutaicho, he stepped over her, heading for the faded organisms that sat by the window. Uncorking one scratched container, he slowly, deliberately tipped it upside down over the parched soil, waiting until the last drop of ochre liquid had been removed before turning to the next one. Well, the plants were as good as dead already, and he was pretty sure that once they had turned this particular shade of brown, there would be no saving them, so he may as well carry out his promise to her.
But then it appeared that that was the exact opposite of what she wanted. Pity. After all, a good captain should always keep his promises. Heh.
Matsumoto was now having a full-blown tantrum, thumping her fists on the ground and wailing uncontrollably about how plants shouldn't be treated as if they were humans and that her taicho was a nasty, bullying kid who never drank anyway and therefore could never understand her great and truly terrible suffering.
All this served to create was a pounding headache on Hitsugaya's part and a particularly nasty bout of frostbite on her own. No one could blame him for his actions; she had uttered several forbidden words (cute, adorable and kid to name just a few) in the last few minutes and paid the price in full. Besides, he was only doing what was best for her, and screaming was no way to thank someone for being considerate.
Rubbing her numb and now blackened fingers, Matsumoto glared at her captain as he left the room, his hands stuffed into his pockets and the tips of his white spikes swaying slightly with each movement.
"Great…now I'll have to get Urahara to fix this thing…"
Although her fingers were not damaged to the extent that they could have been (she had to admit that Hitsugaya wasn't quite that cruel), he had frozen them enough to make them turn a blue-ish black, which was now thankfully fading, and to crack the nails, which was to Matsumoto, the most pressing issue.
That and finding a better hiding place for her remaining sake. He still didn't know about the stash hidden away under his bed, and she didn't intend to enlighten him any time soon.
Soft footsteps announced the return of Hitsugaya, and before he could moan at her again for wasting time lazing about on the floor, she jumped up, smile bouncing back to her features.
Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed slightly upon seeing her, but otherwise ignored her over-zealous attitude and marched up to her, thrusting a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves into her face. She blinked.
"Taicho, what are these for?"
"Use your intuition, Matsumoto. What do you think they're for?" He spoke in an oddly patient voice, as if he were trying to teach her something, but there was something about the set of his neck and shoulders that told her she'd better figure it out quickly.
"Uh…wearing?" So, maybe she would annoy him a little longer. It was fun, and everyone needs a little enjoyment in their lives!
His jaw clenched and she noticed one snowy eyebrow twitch.
"That would be a necessary requirement. But the purpose of these specific items would be to wear them while cleaning."
Her face fell.
"But Taicho, you can't! I said I would only clean if you spared my sake, and you didn't. Therefore, you have no right to do this to me!"
His eyes glinted dangerously as he glared up at her.
"Three things. First; I don't remember agreeing to those conditions. Second; this was the reason I dragged you out of bed in the first place, and third, I am your superior and have the right to do whatever I damn well please!"
She cringed. Good.
"So, the first thing I want you to do is clear up the mess you made in the kitchen. Orihime was good enough to let us stay here, and while I try to make sure I don't cause her too much trouble, you seem to make it your purpose in life to wear her to the bone. She'll be out for the rest of this week, and while she's nice enough to run around after you without complaining, I sure as hell am not. If you want to eat, order a take-out, do NOT try to cook yourself! Otherwise, you can be the one to scrape burnt pizza off the ceiling. Now GET TO WORK!"
Matsumoto looked ready to start having another tantrum, but when a well-aimed (and previously well-hidden) sponge thwacked her over the head, she seemed to decide against it, and instead slouched away into the kitchen, muttering angrily.
Hitsugaya watched with amusement as she vanished into the dishevelled room, and waited until he heard the door close and the tap at the sink turn on. Smiling in satisfaction as he realised that he had just managed to get his lazy Vice-captain to do something, he turned, swiping a small pile of papers from the desk by the door as he went. Perhaps he might actually be able to get some work done…
But then again…
He knew Matsumoto, and if he had learnt anything about her in the last 60 years or so they had known each other, it was that given the opportunity, she would shirk all work or general movement at all for a cup of sake and a magazine.
Perhaps he should check on her.
Spinning around, he trod carefully over to the kitchen door, listening to the sound of water rushing into the sink. There was something off about it. It had been going for some time now, presumably at full-blast if the sound was any indication, but she had so far made no move to turn it off. Also, the rush of water was constant; there was no disturbance or distortion that would usually accompany someone's hands as they moved through the path of the stream. His frown deepened.
Hitsugaya moved closer, pressing his ear up against the flat surface, and listened.
All he could make out was the water.
He took a step back and reached towards the handle, huffing as he realised that it wouldn't turn. Locked. How had he known?
He strode quickly across to the other side of the room and, pushing off from the wall, sped towards the door shoulder first, knowing full well that this was going to painful. When his side connected with it, it burst open, a clattering sound drawing his attention to the wooden chair that had once been up against the door and preventing his entry but was now on its back under the sink, propelled by the force Hitsugaya had exerted on it.
Hitsugaya had barely taken one step when he realised that he was standing in up to two inches of water, the liquid seeping through his socks and making them itch. He looked up, understanding immediately, and walked to the sink, which was full to the point that the water spilled over the edges, running over the surfaces and dripping on to the floor. Looking up, he could still see the blackened remains of pizza hanging from the ceiling, clearly having had no effort to remove them whatsoever.
And the best part?
No Matsumoto.
The window behind the sink was open and beneath it lay a scrap of paper, dripping wet, ink smudged and running having been blown from a higher surface. Nose wrinkling in disdain, Hitsugaya bent to pick it up, having to squint in order to make out the illegible script that blurred its way across the page.
Had to go out for a sec. Very important. Cleaning will have to wait. Tell you about it when I get back.
Lots of love,
Matsumoto.
Alone in the flooded wreck of the kitchen, Hitsugaya's hands balled into fists, crumpling the paper between them. Shutting his eyes and screwing up his face in rage, he took a deep breath and opened his mouth.
"MATSUMOTO!!!"
She had better have thought up a good excuse, otherwise he would give her a very good reason to say that he was anything but cute.
***
He really was over-reacting. Honestly, she'd only gone out for a moment; just to stretch her legs, something that he tends to do rather a lot, actually. She had even managed to be helpful, buying the next week's worth of groceries while she was at it, never mind that they weren't what you would call 'healthy', but really, how bad could eating biscuits for a week be? At least she had bothered. And it wasn't her fault the magazines and alcohol had jumped into the bags, because shopping was a very dangerous venture, and the products had a life of their own.
She'd told her captain as much once she had returned, but for some reason he just got even more annoyed and developed this particularly nasty twitch, telling her to go straight to the kitchen and unload everything into the cupboards. Matsumoto had done so, but the action was accompanied by much groaning and mumbling, mainly about the fact that her arms were already aching from carrying the bags and lifting them would only make things worse. He had responded with a snappish comment about managing to get out of the window, so surely she should have enough energy for raising her arms. Or something like that, anyway…
Upon entering the kitchen, Matsumoto had not been at all surprised to find that it was in perfect condition, everything laid out neatly and evenly, and the remains of her attempted meal removed from the ceiling. There weren't even any grease marks. Very impressive. For a guy he did have very good house-keeping skills. But then, considering the number of times he had had to clean up after her, this really wasn't so odd.
Matsumoto knew her captain well enough to know that if she left him alone with a problem, he would most likely fix it, unable to bear being surrounded by things that did not fit in with his perfectionist nature. All she had to do to avoid work was run, and she could always count on it being completed when she returned. That's why they made such a successful team.
Sort of.
But there really was no need to behave as if she had murdered the Soutaicho. Hitsugaya needed to be a little more laid back, otherwise he could end up hurting someone; probably her, if she was honest, but that didn't change the fact that he was too uptight.
Sighing loudly, Matsumoto slapped her hands onto the Kitchen counter and spun herself around, skipping lightly through the door and out towards her room, wondering vaguely whether her captain had gone off to vent some steam on some poor, unsuspecting Hollow.
Once she had turned the corner that lead to her room, however, she was somewhat confused to see Hitsugaya leaving it, a wide and very foreboding smirk lighting his features. He looked up when he saw her appear, and the smirk morphed into a scheming, unnatural and far-too-happy grin, and for once she was actually afraid that he may have snapped; that she'd finally managed to brake him.
But then she stepped inside her darkened bedroom, and it all began to make sense.
At first, it appeared as though her curtains had been drawn, but on closer inspection, it became clear that actually, the window had been blocked off, allowing absolutely no light into the room. On her bed was stacked a pile of papers so high that it almost reached the ceiling, and just in front of it lay a small, innocent-looking sheet of paper. She felt her captain's presence in the doorway behind her, and turned to face him.
"Taicho…? What's this?"
The triumphant look on his face was matched by her confusion as he answered.
"You'll see…"
Before she could say or do anything else, he had slammed the door shut, leaving her completely in the dark.
'Okay' She thought. 'This proves it. He's finally cracked.'
Shuffling over to the nearest wall, she ran her hands over the surfaces, searching for the light switch. When she eventually located it and allowed the beams to flood the cluttered space, she tried to analyse her situation, which at the moment seemed dire. On finding that she didn't really have anything to analyse, she instead walked over to her bed, picking up the single sheet of paper at the foot of the column.
Matsumoto Rangiku.
You are hereby ordered to complete all existing paperwork in your possession (current or past) as well as the amount presented to you as seen. If these are not completed within the next three days, you shall be forced to take on the entirety of fifth division's work as well as the incomplete work you have already received with a second deadline. Any procrastination will lead to an immediate lock-down of your privileges.
Signed, Captain Hitsugaya Toushrirou, head of Tenth Division.
P.S. This is an official order, Matsumoto, and I've sent a copy to Yamamoto-Soutaicho, so don't think you can wriggle your way out of it. Also, as you may have noticed, your window has been blocked, and your door shut and locked (if everything went according to plan, which I suspect it did). If you think you can break out using Kidou then you're sadly mistaken; I've already placed my own on you room, so there'll be no way for you to escape. If there's a real emergency then I'll let you out, but you'll be going straight back in afterwards. Oh, and when it says you'll be relieved of you privileges, that means no sake, free time or leaving the house.
Have fun.
He couldn't have. He wouldn't…
Oh, but he most definitely would.
The Devil Incarnate's muffled voice sounded from the other side of the door.
"See you in a few days, Matsumoto."
The slight, regular vibrations that indicated footsteps became more and more distant as he wandered down the corridor, leaving her entirely alone and very much regretting her former actions. With her having to write endlessly for the next three days, her hands would get covered in ink and she wouldn't be able to show them in public for days. And her nails were already damaged…
Grimacing, she knelt down and began scrabbling around under her bed, occasionally pausing to extract a bunch of papers before diving in once more. If there was no way out (which she was pretty certain was the case; Hitsugaya's kidou powers were more advanced than people realised, and knowing him, it was unlikely to be anything lower than a level 80, especially if he were determined about something) then she would just have to do it as fast, and neatly, as possible.
Perhaps 'cute' had been the wrong word to describe him with.
***