Title: In his tentacular embrace

Connected ficlets from 5 prompts for H/C Bingo at LJ: Build-up of work related trauma, Tentacles, Motion Sickness, Lacerations/Knife Wounds, Post-apocalypse (crossover with Highschool of the Dead)

Pairings/Characters: ByaRen (various stages), Ichigo and a bunch of other shinigami

Rating/Warnings: T-M, with a bunch of crack, adult situations, gore, fluff, did I say crack?

Disclaimer: I own neither Bleach nor Highschool of the Dead, I merely borrow their characters for my non-profit pleasure

1. Laying it on the line

Hell Butterflies getting the better of Rikichi.

One stroke.

Completion of routine patrol. All members intact.

One stroke.

Kuchiki Taichou's indifference to a joke meant to lighten the work day.

One stroke.

Renji shrugged and added another just for the hell of it. He was a great believer in congenial work environments and Kuchiki Byakuya didn't make it easy.

Now for a little more action. The monthly stores check. The assigned shinigami maintained the inventories, tallied the numbers and handed their accounts over to him, but it didn't mean he could avoid a trip to the storerooms for spot checks and general eyeballing, and the occasional crawl into tight and dark corners, thankfully kept painfully clean if his men knew what was good for them. All that bull about delegating more and more as one rose through the ranks? And here he was, still doing grunt work. He even made his taichou's tea. Though given its cost, perhaps Taichou thought only a fukutaichou was worthy of touching it.

A nice leisurely stroke followed by several rapid ones. Renji sighed. He was slowly getting there. His thumb pressed down firmly. That one was for the tea.

Running two patrols end on end, following by a vigorous training session.

One stroke for each, with a bonus squeeze at the end and a deft and repeated moulding at the tip. Renji considered himself the physical type, and he was never happier when out of the office and engaging in some kind of physical activity, but to mess up the schedule because he had been recovering from one of Matsumoto's infamous drinking parties? He had taken responsibility for it, but it hadn't made him any happier. It had been the week from hell, and it had been his own doing.

Then he had gotten injured, right at the end of a training session. Unohana Taichou had mandated two days of recovery, and since no one disobeyed Unohana, it had meant two days in the office attacking paperwork. Renji didn't dislike paperwork- an organization ran on paper, that much he had learnt working under Yumichika's firm thumb, but two straight days of unrelieved paper-pushing had him literally howling at the moon. He shuddered as he recalled the deadened feeling of sitting in a chair for hours on end.

His hand pumped and pulled. This one was a tough one to get over. Unohana's eerily serene smile, the tightly-wrapped bandages that held him as stiffly as a board, the piles of white with their black slashes of ink, the enforced inaction, the numbing of his leg and butt muscles and the cramp in his fingers- each had to be exorcised with redoubled effort. A change of pace was called for. And it was time to stop counting strokes. Some things you just couldn't put a figure on.

Kenpachi goading Kornamura into a fight near the Sixth Division and the resultant damage. It had been his responsibility to access the damage, arrange for repairs, determine the monetary penalties for each division based on eyewitness reports and analysis of the reiatsu traces and damage wrought, negotiate with said divisions for the actual payment, and submit all the relevant reports. His taichou had crowned his efforts with a, "It is satisfactorily settled," but the administrative nightmare far outweighed any gesture of approval.

One hand moving in ever-quickening and more powerful strokes, the other crept down further between his legs. The "black-out" special was called for, this time. Renji felt the rush of water and tried to relax into his fingers, no easy task given that his thigh muscles were bunched together and his abdomen was wound tighter than a spring. He bit more strongly on the cloth between his teeth to ease the tension and moved sharply. Slivers of lightning raced through him.

Arguing with his taichou for what he considered a perfectly legitimate reason and facing his bankai. To add insult to injury, it was Renji who had to write the damage report for the destroyed training field, even though Taichou had actually changed his mind and taken his suggestion.

Chasing down members of the Sixth who had gotten into a brawl with some drunken Eleverners, and standing over their shoulders while they wrote up their reports.

Leading an advance party into Hueco Mundo, to survey hollow activity after the fall of Aizen. The eternal night of the place, the desert of sand, the ruined aspect of Las Noches had pressed down on him in all their melancholic wreckage.

Renji's hands slowed and he shook his head, spraying droplets of water all over the bathroom floor. No, such thoughts wouldn't do. He was so close. He added a riff of rapid pinches to quicken matters. Ah, back on track.

The fortnightly fukutaichou meetings, which seemed to consist of silly resolutions that got them into sillier situations. Like the beach party graced by the presence of hollow watermelons with tentacles. All the real business tended to be conducted over lunch, dinner, or drinks. But since the meetings were a tradition from time immemorial, Renji spent most of them torn between bedulled boredom and incipient terror.

Persuading the mess cooks that a regular change of menu was required and convincing Taichou that the increase in expense was justified. It was minimal, the men were happier and had more energy for their work, and there was less after hours drinking to substitute for unsatisfying grub. Then his friends from other divisions had sent him round to make the case to their own taichous, and by the time he had done a circuit of most of the divisions (the Twelvth was one place he had avoided), Renji had talked himself hoarse and was regretting his big mouth. He should never have told Shuuhei about it. Senpai was the Gotei's news editor. Renji had always thought town-crier a better description.

Renji's fingers dug in with dogged resolution. For facing the various taichous, he deserved all the restitution he could get. He pressed down firmly on his soles and swung his body into frantic action. Suddenly, the balance tipped. His vision swam as his world went up in glorious and earth-shaking conflagration before darkness deeper than peace and more soothing than the womb descended, and every last knot worked itself out of his muscles.

He only came to when a sibilant hiss sounded from the depths of his soul. "Never thought you, of all people, would get it up for work, Renji."

"Shut up, dirt-eater."

2. Title: After the beach

Kotetsu Isane hesitated when she saw her Taichou seated on the veranda, looking as if the moon had engaged her in some silent communion, but the older woman had already turned and smiled beckoningly before she made up her mind to retreat.

"Another nightmare, Isane?" The light, fluting voice held only gentle enquiry.

Once again, Isane hesitated. "I'm not sure," she said finally. "It's not about fishcakes, so perhaps it wasn't a nightmare, yet..." Her voice trailed off.

Retsu waited patiently. As much as the subjects of her fukutaichou's nightmares might appear laughable to other people, Isane took them very seriously, and her confessions to her taichou were very much her sole solace.

"Kuchiki Taichou always wears his kenseikan, doesn't he?" began Isane tentatively.

Unohana's eyes lids lowered, hiding the sudden glint. "Yes. It is a sign of his nobility, and also arranges his hair most tidily."

"Tidily," echoed Isane. "I dreamt that all that hair of his became unruly and attacked Abarai-san. Like tentacles." She shuddered.

With the discipline instilled by two millennia of bedside tact, Retsu gamely suppressed the bubble of delight that rose in her chest.

"An remmant echo of the episode this afternoon at the beach," she said gravely. Her fukutaichou blushed at the memory of the giant tentacular monster and her hands clasped together in front of her. "Furthermore, Abarai-kun did get into a little scuffle with that creature, so it is unsurprising that the incident would weigh on your mind and enter your dreams." Retsu patted the wood next to her. "Sit here with me, Isane, and share the night."

With a quiet sound of assent, Isane padded over and took her seat. But one last question crossed her lips before both women fell into silence. "But why Kuchiki Taichou's hair?"

At the next SWA meeting several weeks later, Isane recounted her dream to the usual crowd of co-conspirators. There was a brief, awed hush as she finished, then Matsumoto Rangiku leapt to her feet, bosom jiggling in her haste, and fell on Isane, sweeping her into a fervent embrace. "Congratulations, my dear, welcome to the ranks of serious yaoi..."

Her exuberance was rudely interrupted by loud snorts and guffaws from Rukia, half falling off her chair and hugging her sides in agony. Since the two men in question, the subjects of Isane's dream, counted Rukia the most important female in their lives, everyone awaited her recovery with polite and deliberate patience.

Finally, when Rukia had ceased choking and a glass of tea was offered to ease her aching throat, she graciously proceeded to satisfy their curiosity. "Nii-sama has been serving octopus every time Renji comes to dinner in the past fortnight." After Renji's rapprochement with Rukia, he had fallen into the habit of dining with the Kuchikis at Rukia's invitation, with the tacit consent of her elder brother. "I think he likes the way Renji blushes."

"Was Abarai-kun blushing or was he red because he was embarrassed?" piped up Hinamori Momo inquiringly. "He was furious that he lost to that monster at the beach and embarrassed once he woke up!" She giggled a little, to the accompaniment of grins from the other members of the SWA. All recalled how Renji had been scarlet from forehead to knees at his ignominious defeat.

"Definitely blushing," replied Rukia decisively. "The pink's more," she waved a hand about, "delicate. And he can't look Nii-sama in the eye. Nii-sama always offers him a piece from his own plate, and it makes Renji incoherent." She cocked her head consideringly. "I think that the tentacle monster did something to Renji as well, though we didn't really see it." Ise Nanao and Isane choked over their tea and blushed deeply. Kurotsuchi Nemu remained stoically expressionless.

Rangiku tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Sounds promising," she said with conspiratorial emphasis. "Good work, and keep us posted, Rukia. Especially when Renji finally surrenders."

Rukia smiled dazzlingly as pink flowers danced around her head. "Of course, Rangiku-san. As long as the byline for the exposé's mine." She held up the paper she had been scribbling on, where a kenseikan-wearing rabbit outlined in black had its ridiculously long ears wrapped around a panicked red-furred dog.

3. The spider who miscalculated

"Come into my parlor," said the spider to the fly.

Renji would have snorted if he hadn't been so damned nauseous. He'd once mocked the idiot fly who'd listened to the blandishments of the spider, despite how pretty the spider was, with its black and white markings, but now he knew stupidity had nothing to do with it. It was all good marketing and the lure of the unexplored. Damn Living World TV, damn Sex and the City, damn Rukia for leaving those DVDs lying around for the unwary and the overimaginative and damn noble-friendly mail catalogs. Or the internet. Or whatever it was that got the spider its web. He could have damned the spider too, but his grievance with it went far beyond that. He dug his face deeper into the spider's neck. Damn the trembling, it wasn't manly, and it set the web shaking.

His stomach heaved wildly again, and he sunk his teeth into firm and naked skin. This way, there would be at least one still point of reference in his crazily tilting and revolving world. And, he thought vengefullly, hearing the light "oomph" of pain, it was the least the spider could do, after having conned Renji into its web. Its crazily revolving, tilting web.

When his stomach stopped roiling, he was going to bankai the idiot who invented a swing suspended from only one point in the ceiling, high enough that its users' feet were half a body length off the ground. And no, shunpo was not the answer, whatever the spider said. It got you into the web and stuck. Which had probably been the spider's intention all along. His lips and teeth found another anchor and worked valiantly on it. The spider gasped again.

Sadly, the spider remained unchastened. Renji stiffened when he felt feelers creep towards the dip between his butt cheeks. The web swayed with his movement and his stomach turned over. His limbs tightened involuntarily and the spider moaned. Renji would have cursed out loud if all his attention hadn't been on keeping the contents of his stomach in. He managed a deep growl, which was, not unexpectedly, ignored. Who said a spider only had six legs anyway? There were twice that- ten fingers, tongue and cock. He could feel all of them, caressing, smoothing, prodding. Prodding? He jerked.

Once again, the world spiraled around Renji, and his head followed it. The throb in his temples deepened to hammer-on-anvil-like proportions. Renji moaned in protest. If he was going to get it up the ass, then he at least wanted to be healthy enough to enjoy all of it.

When the spider's hips moved and the web with it, Renji's much beleaguered stomach finally gave up. He retained enough presence of mind to turn his head away- he did want to get naked again with the damned fastidious spider, just not in a sex swing- and this time, relief at the release was so great it did not matter that the web dipped and bounced dangerously as he spewed the day's meals on the floor of the Sixth Division dungeon.

5. A lesson in the flesh

Clothing discarded, Renji took a running leap into the hot springs and whooped as water curled into the air and sprayed over his companion, to the accompaniment of maledictions that called his hair, his tattoos and his parentage into question.

"Just making sure your wounds get cleaned, Berry-head!" came the pious response. "Won't want to leave any scars, heh?"

Ichigo's angry curses subsided into a sullen glare. "What's so bad about a few scars?" he demanded, his tone rising only to weak defiance. Both men knew that blatant scarring would only trouble Ichigo's gentle sister Yuzu.

Renji's grin was very sharp indeed. "If you want to look like Zaraki Kenpachi, no one's stopping you."

Ichigo promptly shut his mouth and resumed glaring with remarkable ineffectualness. Barring Ikkaku, few men wanted to emulate Kenpachi and Ichigo most emphatically did not want to resemble the battle-crazed taichou. Searching for more robust ammunition, his eyes trailed over Renji's torso, trawling for Renji's own scars, and lighted on a cluster above his heart. "Thought you didn't like scars," he remarked snidely, prodding the puckered skin.

Renji's grin sharpened. "Use your eyes, idiot. These are badges, lessons." His index finger prodded Ichigo's chest in return.

Ichigo snorted and slapped at Renji's hand. "Like you can get anything into your thick head. Looks like a scar, feels like a scar, it is a scar. Idiot."

Renji leaned pugnaciously into Ichigo's face. "What do you know? This is the scar left from my first fight with Taichou. Idiot."

"Yeah, you got totally beat up on that one." Ichigo quickened as easily to sympathy as he did to anger. Besides, no one in their right minds happily faced a sword which turned into thousands of petals. Then again, "So, what was that lesson? That you could fight Byakuya and still be his fukutaichou, and get him to train you regularly?"

Renji snorted derisively. "Only you would think that, idiot." Then his expression turned somber and he held up a solemn finger. "Listen up, Berry, and remember this. Sometimes, one fights for one's soul, and for this, it's worth risking everything, even one's soul."

Ichigo frowned in puzzlement, then his brow cleared and he shook wet hair out of his eyes. "Yeah. Doesn't make much sense, but yeah."

Renji smirked. "Of course I make perfect sense, you just won't admit to it."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. So, what's that one for?" He pointed to a thin line running down Renji's left arm towards his elbow.

Bitterness and anger filled Renji's face. Ichigo drew back in surprise, and Renji's expression went blank as he noticed the other's reaction. "That was from a first year training exercise we had that turned into a real hollow attack. Thought for fifty years that the lesson was to be prepared for anything. Hisagi-senpai said it was a demonstration of Murphy's Law." His face darkened again. "Then we learned recently that Aizen and Ichimaru were experimenting with hollows. They were the taichous who turned up to rescue us, by the way. In order to remove all signs that they had messed with the hollows. And I realized that the real lesson is that things are not always how they seem."

Ichigo punched Renji's shoulder, then matched Renji frown for frown. "What?" demanded the latter.

"So what?" was the immediate response. "You fought, didn't you? Once you knew the truth, you stood up and fought. And you never backed down."

Renji stared at Ichigo for a moment, then grinned roguishly.

"Ha."

For a moment, both men exchanged smirks. Then Ichigo pressed on. "What's the next one?

Renji pointed to a scar on his abdomen. "This was from Hueco Mundo, against that freaking espada Szayel.

"Ouch." Ichigo had heard about the innards-replicating incident.

"Yeah." Renji grinned ruefully. "And there were quite a number of lessons." He counted his fingers. "One, improve shunpo. Getting up close and personal with your enemy might not be the best thing. One and a half, improve kido. Same thing. Two, brute force isn't always enough, nor sheer reiatsu. Unless you're Kenpachi." He eyed his companion. "Or Kurosaki Ichigo." Ichigo snickered and Renji responded by splashing him. "Lesson three. Sometimes, even conventional strategies and tactics don't work. And it's my luck if some skill I have does." Reflexively, he rubbed his abdomen. "That was a battle of scientist against scientist. So, lesson four. Keep learning. Something might come in useful. That one, Kurotsuchi Taichou out-thought Szayel. Lesson five, respect your opponents." He bared his teeth. "Even if you don't let them know it."

"So you respect me, huh?" Ichigo smirked, back-pedaling to avoid Renji's mock punch. His palm struck water and sent it towards Renji. The rest of the conversation descended into a water fight for which Renji was profoundly relieved. He had forgotten about the healed bite marks rimming his fundoshi when he had jumped into the pool after Ichigo.

The lesson for that one? Within noble icebergs lay active volcanoes.

5. Collateral Damage

There was a stunned silence after Urahara finished his report.

"Zombies?" said Hitsugaya incredulously. "Most of the world's population has turned into zombies in itwo/i days?

"Pardon me," interjected Ukitake, "but the number of souls requiring konso has not increased dramatically, nor that of those arriving in Soul Society."

Urahara tapped his closed fan against his palm. "Yes, it is both worrisome and fortunate. Based on our experiments, transformation into the zombie state puts the body into a stasis that is balanced between life and death, and not until the head is smashed in and the brain destroyed is the body dead and the soul released. Given the sheer numbers, if the zombies had experienced true death, Soul Society would have been flooded, not to mention Hueco Mundo, considering the manner in which these people died, and the total sum of hollows would be beyond our capability to contain. At this time, the few humans remaining are presumably fighting back, so we are seeing a trickle of souls. However," his eyes, for once unshaded by the brim of his hat, looked around the room and met every single pair, "I predict that the still human leaders of many countries will unleash their nuclear arsenals, and once one country has done so, the others will certainly follow, so we must be prepared for a disastrous influx of souls, as well as an exponential rise in hollow activity." He paused. "Unless we find a way to stop them."

Several voices spoke at once, offering suggestions, demanding more information, until the Soutaichou banged his staff on the floor. "We will proceed in an orderly fashion." The hall subsided into silence.

"We are facing an unprecedented crisis."

"Yeah," snorted Kenpachi. "We know that, old man. So, who are we going to fight this time?" He folded his arms.

"Brute," cackled Kurotsuchi. "Those zombies will be fascinating to study. I can hardly wait to set up the protocols."

Yamamoto held up his hand before other taichous could chime in yet again with their opinions.

"Soutaichou, if I might ask Urahara-san a question?" Unohana's light, melodious voice wafted gently over the tense silence. At Yamamoto's grunt, she turned to Urahara. "Urahara-san, you mentioned that the zombie state is one lying between life and death. Would it be possible to

move it in the other direction and bring the victims back to life?"

Urahara nodded. "Theoretically, yes. I have begun investigations along those lines myself, based on the assumption that the pandemic might be microbial in nature. But the cure will have to be delivered universally and simultaneously, otherwise the recovered humans will be at the mercy of the remaining zombies. However, a cure will take time, and I have some thoughts on other avenues of investigation that might restore the balance." He frowned, an unusual expression for his usually frivolous demeanor, and his listeners felt a chill run down their spines. "However, we don't have much time, and I fear that the human leaders may pre-empt all our efforts with their nuclear weapons. You will recall the last great conflict sixty years ago where but two of these were used. Now, their destructive capabilities are much greater and their use will spell the destruction of the human world." He looked at Yamamoto. "Soutaichou, this is an unprecedented catastrophe in the making."

Yamamoto's eyelids flickered in acknowledgment. He thumped his staff again. "Taichous and officers of the Gotei 13 squads, hear my orders." He looked at Urahara, then at Unohana, then Kurotsuchi. "We do not intervene in the human world beyond the demands of our duties, and never have we intervened in their wars." He glared, and the incipient outcry died down as the temperature in the hall rose. "However, the balance of three worlds has been disrupted beyond what is permissible, and we must act. Our best hope lies in reversing this zombie state. Urahara," Urahara bowed, "I am returning the twelfth division and the research institute to your command, and Kurotsuchi will serve as your second." He ignored Kurotsuchi's spluttered protests. "You will work together with Unohana Taichou to explore all possible means of reversal, whether medical or otherwise. Unohana Taichou will also prepare the Fourth Division to treat shinigami and others under possible war conditions."

"Soi Fon Taichou." He turned to the Second Division leader and she responded with a sharp "Hai." "You will keep under observation all human leaders who have access to nuclear arsenals and take measures to prevent the release of their weapons."

"Ukitake, Kyouraku and Komamura Taichous. You will coordinate procedures and prepare stations to process an exponential increase of souls into Soul Society. As Rukongai will be unable to accommodate the increased population, it is likely that we will have to ensure that the wildlands beyond the 80th districts are safe for habitation. You will be assisted by the Ninth Division. Hisagi Fukutaichou, you will be Acting Taichou. Furthermore, the Kido Corps will work with you in defensive and other matters." While the four shinigami bowed, Yamamoto turned to Tessai, who had accompanied Urahara. "Tsukabishi-san, I request that you resume leadership of the Kido Corps. Your knowledge and experience will be called upon for the tasks facing us."

Tessai bowed deeply. "Yamamoto-dono, I am honoured to serve."

Yamamoto turned to Hitsugaya. "Hitsugaya Taichou, you will liaise with Urahara Taichou concerning two matters. First, you will investigate if the zombie pandemic is an intentional event and take appropriate measures. Second, you will keep Hueco Mundo under observation." His eyes gathered in the remaining taichous. "The First Division will take command of patrols and offensive measures in the human world, aided by the Third, Fifth, Sixth and Eleventh Divisions. Kira Fukutaichou, you will be Acting Taichou of the Third Division. For the Fifth Division, Abarai Fukutaichou will take over as Acting Taichou. Kuchiki Taichou, this leaves you without a fukutaichou, but I expect no less from your division. Zaraki Taichou, all promotion duels in your division are suspended. We need every able-bodied shinigami we can get." Kenpachi "tched" at this, but held his tongue.

"All officers dismissed. Go about your preparations."

Later that evening, Renji sat across from his taichou, and poured tea for both of them with a steady hand. Then he sat back, nursing the warm cup between his palms, and silence fell, filled with the fatigue of the day.

"I am concerned."

Renji looked up from his contemplation of his tea. "Eh?"

"We do not yet have reports of the hollows' response, and it is unclear if the zombie state is permanent or if the victim dies at some point."

Renji's eyes widened and his pupils shrank to pin-points. "But that would be..." His voice trailed off and he grimaced.

"Yes."

Renji's hands tightened in frustration. "One crisis after another, and we thought the biggest one was over after Ichigo and Urahara-san got Aizen and we could settle down to rebuilding, and now this!"

"We are shinigami."

Renji bit back a growl. Disagreement was futile, when he too believed in the functions of the shinigami, but the situation made him twitch with all its macabre ridiculousness. The room once again descended into uneasy silence as each man considered the day's events.

Finally, Byakuya sighed almost inaudibly and laid down his cup.

"Bide with me tonight."

Renji's heart skipped a beat, and his clenched fists slowly relaxed. Watching the man across from him, he replaced his cup and pushed the low table aside along with his grim thoughts. He nudged forward lightly on his knees. Gently, he lited a hand to a pale cheek and ran his fingers along the lips that had parted slightly at his touch. Elegant hands gripped his shoulders, drawing him in, and Renji fell into the comfort of warm skin, silky hair and an unstinting generosity.