The Job Hunt

Disclaimer: I DON’T OWN THEM!

Warnings: Adult language, adult situations. Hilarity. Living-world humour. Shorter than my other offerings, but simply because these were meant to be drabble one-shots, not full-length chapters.

Notes: This is the third installment of my ‘Job Hunt’ stories. This time, it’s Ichimaru Gin’s turn and since I saw a man late one night that greatly resembled him, his job description has been created as such. Special thanks again to my brother, for giving me the idea for Gin’s marketing skills.

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“Are you sure you want to hire him, sir?”

The manager of the local television station nodded and shuffled his papers, a picture of his new employee on the front page, paper clipped to the man’s resume.

“He’s got the perfect face for TV. He smiles a lot, his voice is clear and he’s apparently a specialist in knives and other cutting objects.”

The balding man’s assistant squinted in doubt and snatched the papers up, reading them over and snorting out loud.
“Says he’s skilled in swordsmanship, sir.”

“Whatever. It’s close enough. Do you want to take the midnight to one shift in front of the camera?”

“…no.”

“Then he’s hired. Call him to come in for tomorrow night. Maybe about ten-ish. He needs to be briefed early, then shown what he’s to do.”

“…hai.”

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The diligent but skeptical assistant watched as their new hire came in, followed closely by an attractive but somewhat timid looking blond, the boy carrying a duffel bag and smiling through a blush each time the obviously older man looked back to him. The set was all ready to go for the show and Ichimaru Gin smiled broadly as he greeted his employer.

“Ohayo, taichou! Do you mind if I call you taichou? It’s kind of a habit of mine.”

The rotund station manager shook his head and laughed quietly.
“No, of course not. You’re doing us a favour by working the late shift, so you can call me whatever you like.”

An excited nod. “Taichou it is then!”

The living man smiled and looked to Kira, earning himself a slight nod and a turn of the boy’s head, obviously not interested in conversation with a stranger.

“So, what am I gonna be doing? I’m so excited!”

Thrilled with the silver haired man’s eagerness to start, the man gestured to his assistant, who walked the pair back to a set dressed to look like a lavish kitchen, various bowls of fruit and vegetables placed in high bowls on the counters, one entire surface taken up by a carefully placed display of knives and shears.

“You’re going to be selling these. I’m sure you’ve heard of infomercials before, right?”

Though he hadn’t, Gin nodded and waved his hand noncommittally, acting as if the boy had insulted his intelligence.

“Of course! That’s where a person sells things to a watching audience.”

He was ad-libbing, seeing the seats set up for the live audience and putting two and two together, happy with himself as the rather arrogant assistant nodded, walking over to a display of scissors.
“Exactly. Now, the teleprompter there-“ He pointed to a camera directly aimed at the counter they were currently standing in front of, “-will tell you exactly what you need to say during the company’s ad. Otherwise, you’re meant to say whatever you feel about the items.”

Gin was beside himself with excitement, a calming hand resting on his right elbow as his young lover tried to keep his overly interested attitude from causing a problem.

“Other than that, it’s all fool proof. Don’t cut yourself, don’t make too much of a mess and feel free to have fun with the knives. The garbage is here. If you see a vegetable that needs a good slicing, give it a go. Just drag the cut items into the hole so the cutting board stays clean. Don’t worry about what to say. Anything will do as long as you’re talking about the product. The viewers love it all. They eat it up.”

“Heh, yeah! They’re gonna want to eat it up if I’m cutting it up! No sense in wasting food!”

Backing away slightly, the dark haired helper scooted back to his boss’s side, obviously frightened by the other’s enthusiasm, a female aide quickly coming over to dress the new host up somewhat.
He was given light makeup but due to his non-shiny skin, Gin was easy to work on, a little bit of blush and a pencil for his light eyebrows and he was finished. A thick white apron, adorned with the company’s name and logo, completed his look, a lovely blue collared shirt on underneath that Urahara had warmly offered beforehand, knowing that it was a style most television personalities wore these days.

Turning to look at himself in the mirror on the back of the studio’s door, Gin posed, smiling lovingly at the blond fukutaichou.

“Naa, how do I look, Izuru? Kinda cute, ne?”

“You look wonderful, Ichimaru-taichou.” He cleared his throat slightly. “I was told to watch from backstage so I’ll be right there if you need me.”

He pointed to an area behind the kitchen’s background scenery, somewhere for the helpers and gophers to sit in case something was immediately needed on the set.

“There’s a television back there so I can see how you’re doing.”

The young taichou leaned forward and pecked the boy on the forehead, causing him to blush, a light chuckle sounding from the pleased captain.

“You’re a good boy, Izuru. Go on now. It looks like they’re ready for me.”

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The cameras went on at twelve o’clock sharp, the floor manager pointing to Gin and the light haired shinigami immediately broke into a spiel about the benefits of having sharp cutting implements. The station manager sat backstage with Kira and after being ignored for the most part after smiling warmly at the boy, decided that it was easier to watch the taping and avoid his dark gaze.

“…and when you need to cut big things, use this one!” The young captain held up a rather dangerous looking cleaver, momentarily brandishing it like a weapon. “I guess if I cut one of these up-“ He held a tomato. “-you can see how well it works!”

The plump fruit was decimated in a matter of seconds, leaving only well chopped chunks and seedy juice, the mess scooped into a hole in the countertop that the manager’s assistant had indicated, telling their new employee that it was the garbage can.

“Now, I’ve got this pair of shears here and…oh, here we go.” The silver haired taichou brought out a fully cooked and cooled chicken, carefully placing it on the cutting board and flourishing the scissors before the camera. “Lets see what these can do!”

The breastbone and legs of the poor cooked animal were cut off as if by a menacing blade, leaving a legless, gaping carcass and a very happily smiling shinigami.

“They can cut right through bone! How’s that for sharpness?”

Eyeing the audience, Ichimaru picked out quite a few women and changed his pace slightly, knowing that girls like Hinamori-kun and Ukitake’s young subordinate, Kuchiki-san loved small things that could be easily concealed for safety and whatnot.

From the large but nearly completely shown collection, he procured a handy set of matching knives meant for paring, one with a curved tip and two with sharp points.

“These little ones are for those of you who enjoy garnishing your food! I can’t imagine how many little things I could do with a daikon radish or a stick of celery!”

From under the counter, already cut into strips, were the aforementioned vegetables, a quick flick of his wrist and the ever-smiling captain had palm tree celeries and squid daikon sitting in a neat little row.

The audience clapped while he scraped the cuttings into the garbage and with a damp cloth, wiped the countertop. His next trick, after the commercial break and his nearly monotone speech read from the teleprompter, involved paper and thankfully, the stage assistant had brought it out, along with Kira, who handed Gin his zanpakutou. After a brief, whispered chat, the elder swordsman again pecked the blond on the forehead and gave his bum a pat as he walked off, much to the horror, and glee, for some of the surrounding staff.

The floor manager again pointed to him as his second half came up, the audience clapping to welcome him back. The paper was thick, almost card stock, and he held it on its edge so the viewers at home could see just how thick it really was, his other hand flicking it so it would make noise.

“This is the thickest paper we could find at the moment and even with a sharp pair of office scissors, it was cut unevenly and the edges are frayed. The scissors used were obviously dull, even though they were brand new out of the package!”

Of course he was ad-libbing again and the station manager smiled broadly, enjoying how a few of the audience members sat forward in their seats, nodding to his every word.

“So, here we have the basic chopping knife in the set and I’m gonna demonstrate just how sharp they really are.”

Taking the long object in his right hand, he carved the blade into the solid stone cutting board, shaving the material into a small pile, then lifting it to reveal a seemingly unmarked surface. The crowd oohed and ahhed over it before he lifted the paper and firmly but neatly sliced quarter inch slivers from it, each little piece falling to the counter and floor.

“Not a knick in the blade and it cuts through this paper like…well, like a knife through paper! And don’t forget, if you call in the next thirty minutes, you can move up from the basic set to the deluxe set for the same price! Just mention the word ‘shikai’ when you order!”

The audience laughed and from under the counter, he brought out his beloved zanpakutou, much to the chagrin of the station manager but to the people watching the show live, it was immensely exciting, no doubt an addition to the already thrilling show.

“Here, ladies and gentlemen, I have a traditional samurai sword. It’s my own personal weapon and I love it dearly. I sharpen it everyday and I oil its scabbard to prevent it from sticking when it needs to be pulled out. The length to which normal sword masters go to hone their weapons is legendary.”

He grinned as he set the item down on the counter and craftily folded a large sheet of paper into a small square, lifting the sword to eye level and masterfully sliced at it after tossing it into the air, listening to the gasps of the crowd and watching the tiny bits falling to the floor, quickly snatching the now cut square from the air and setting his sword down.

“Now, lets see just what I’ve created, ne?”

Unfolding it, he smiled broadly and pulled the paper flat, a long chain coming out, like that of a children’s craft. There were nine little bodies holding hands, their shape and hairstyle unmistakably those of his blond lover. The station manager chuckled and watched as Kira blushed backstage, turning his chair so he wouldn’t have to see the larger man’s odd gaze.

“Naa, it’s a cute paper chain! And you see how easily the sword cut the paper, as well as how easily the knife cut it? That’s the genius of this new and improved set.”

Taking a pose after re-sheathing his sword and stepping slightly closer to the camera, instructed by an unseen stagehand off to his right.

“We have a little saying here that makes sense now that you’ve seen how wonderful our product is, especially when compared to a professionally designed and cared for ancient weapon.”

Red eyes peered into the camera amidst a brilliant smile.

“Your knives are guaranteed to be sharp because here at the company, Ginsou-“ He held up the largest of the cleavers. “-is just as sharp as Shinsou.”

The sword was held up beside the other object, throughout a loud round of applause from the audience and the cameras abruptly turned off.

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In the station manager’s office, the man and his assistant stood, their faces somewhat ashen because of the situation that had recently occurred, the infomercial having gone perfectly but unfortunately, their new host had declined a second show.
With a broad grin on his face and an arm wound around his blond friend, the neatly dressed shinigami had politely refused, had accepted his payment for the single episode and had walked out with a skip in his step, Shinsou tucked neatly under his arm. In Kira’s right hand was a bag, filled to the brim with products from the company’s new line of knives, complete with all the accessories he had spoken on camera about earlier.

“He was the best fucking host we’ve ever had. How do we replace someone like that?”

“I don’t think we do, sir. The company’s ruined. We can’t even run the basic commercial for the new set because the man we hired for them is bitter and unpleasant compared to…” He peered at the silver haired man’s resume again to read his name. “…Gin.”

“Call the president of the company. Tell him to pack it in.”

“…hai.”

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“Wasn’t I cute, Izuru! Oh, that was so much fun!” Gin slid a hand around to snatch the bag from his lover and peered inside, cooing over the shiny objects. “I think I’ll leave these for Urahara-san. I don’t think they’d be any good in Soul Society.”

“I think you’re right, Ichimaru-taichou. Just leave them behind. He’ll be thrilled, I’m sure.”

A brilliant smile greeted the boy as the taller man turned slightly to regard him, eagerly entering the Urahara Shoten and handing over the bag to the shop’s eccentric owner, waiting patiently while the hat toting blond exclaimed over each sparkly item.

“Sankyuu, Ichimaru-taichou! These will make my attempts at sushi much easier!”

The two elder shinigami smiled at each other before the silver haired one moved to take Kira’s hand again, heading back to the room with the Senkai gate, waving and voicing his goodbye’s in his traditional Ichimaru way.

“Bye-bye, Ichimaru-taichou-san! Kira-fukutaichou-san! Give my hellos to Abarai-fukutaichou! Tell him his former boss was asking about him!”

Kira waved back at the other blond and smiled a bit before following his lover home, grimacing as the bright light surrounded them and drew them back into the comforting arms of their beloved homeland.