Fathering Yachiru
folder
Bleach › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,219
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Bleach › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,219
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Awesome
Kenpachi and me share the same views of him.
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Zaraki Kenpachi Taichou of Squad 11 of the Gotei 13 always told his subordinates to go through the day with the ambition of killing someone. It seemed to spur them on, get them motivated.
This way of thinking not only put them in a useful homicidal frame of mind, but also kept them on edge for fear of someone actually taking his unholy advice litterally.
This, he thought, was awesome. He had a bunch of murderous lunatics under his command.
He grinned as he leaned back in his chair, in one of his rare moments of self-worship.
He wasn't a vain man, he knew all his flaws, and none of them bothered him as much as he knew they should. He didn't give a rat's ass about his appearance (apart from his beloved bells, obviously). As long as he intimidated people by just being there, that was fine.
Though through all this, he still had to admit that he awesome. He couldn't fine a better word to describe himself, personally.
He was crazy-strong, had a possibility of owning the most destructive zanpakutou ever (if only it fucking spoke to him at least once), and to top it off, he dominated the most mental division.
Squad 11 was, without a doubt, full of psychopaths, and he loved it. Who didn't love a deranged killer or a hundred?
Ichigo could go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut for all he cared. The orange haired freakopath wanted his title, he was sure of it. Well, fuck if Zaraki would let him. HE was captain 11. And nothing that living-dead-guy was gonna do would stop that.
He let out a satisfied sigh. Shunsui was coming over later to bitch about the other captains, subordinates, and get extensively hammered on as much sake as they could get a hold of. Yep, life was rather good at the moment.
That ass-licker Aizen was half a world away, probably sulking over his retarded Ourancards or whatever they were called. He snickered. Fucking emo's...
Gin would probably be playing pranks, if he hadn't changed. Zaraki hated that.
Tousen...he didn't care what he was doing. That crazy blind guy never liked him, and the feeling was mutual. Always looking down on poor litte Zaraki, sating him and always saying he was no good.
Well lookie here, who's the stupid bastard who's ran off to destroy the fucking world?
At that moment Yachiru had decided to run in, clutching a small bowl full of green mush in her tiny hand.
"The fuck's that shit?" he asked, watching her angrily for dissrupting his mental bitching session. She looked up and giggled, jumping up to sit on his knee and poking a finger in the goo.
"It's Mr. Perfect's," she claimed, holding a green hand up to his face. He frowned and sniffed it as Yumichika rushed in, looking flustered and tormented.
"Fukitaichou! Give that back!" he demanded, holding a hand out impatiently.
"Hell is this?" Zaraki asked, still staring into the bowl. Yumichika sighed, shifting his weight to one foot and putting his hands to his hips.
"It's a special face mask. Give it back, please," he said, glaring daggers at them both.
"What's it for?" Yachiru asked, smushing her hand back in again, making the fifth seat visibly wince.
"It clenses my pores and gets rid of toxins! If you do that it'll be full of shit!" he cried, running over and snatching it away, walking out the room quickly, nursing the bowl closely.
"How's he such a girl?" Zaraki asked wearily as Yachiru jumped down. She shrugged, toddling over to the door.
"Can I go play with Baldy-kun?" she asked, bouncing over her feet in the doorway. He nodded, waving a hand as he leaned over his desk, littered with reports and documents from last week he couldn't be bothered to read.
"Sure. Try to kill him," he called after her as she shot out. He grinned again.
Maybe Yachiru was pretty awesome, too.
---------------------
Zaraki Kenpachi Taichou of Squad 11 of the Gotei 13 always told his subordinates to go through the day with the ambition of killing someone. It seemed to spur them on, get them motivated.
This way of thinking not only put them in a useful homicidal frame of mind, but also kept them on edge for fear of someone actually taking his unholy advice litterally.
This, he thought, was awesome. He had a bunch of murderous lunatics under his command.
He grinned as he leaned back in his chair, in one of his rare moments of self-worship.
He wasn't a vain man, he knew all his flaws, and none of them bothered him as much as he knew they should. He didn't give a rat's ass about his appearance (apart from his beloved bells, obviously). As long as he intimidated people by just being there, that was fine.
Though through all this, he still had to admit that he awesome. He couldn't fine a better word to describe himself, personally.
He was crazy-strong, had a possibility of owning the most destructive zanpakutou ever (if only it fucking spoke to him at least once), and to top it off, he dominated the most mental division.
Squad 11 was, without a doubt, full of psychopaths, and he loved it. Who didn't love a deranged killer or a hundred?
Ichigo could go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut for all he cared. The orange haired freakopath wanted his title, he was sure of it. Well, fuck if Zaraki would let him. HE was captain 11. And nothing that living-dead-guy was gonna do would stop that.
He let out a satisfied sigh. Shunsui was coming over later to bitch about the other captains, subordinates, and get extensively hammered on as much sake as they could get a hold of. Yep, life was rather good at the moment.
That ass-licker Aizen was half a world away, probably sulking over his retarded Ourancards or whatever they were called. He snickered. Fucking emo's...
Gin would probably be playing pranks, if he hadn't changed. Zaraki hated that.
Tousen...he didn't care what he was doing. That crazy blind guy never liked him, and the feeling was mutual. Always looking down on poor litte Zaraki, sating him and always saying he was no good.
Well lookie here, who's the stupid bastard who's ran off to destroy the fucking world?
At that moment Yachiru had decided to run in, clutching a small bowl full of green mush in her tiny hand.
"The fuck's that shit?" he asked, watching her angrily for dissrupting his mental bitching session. She looked up and giggled, jumping up to sit on his knee and poking a finger in the goo.
"It's Mr. Perfect's," she claimed, holding a green hand up to his face. He frowned and sniffed it as Yumichika rushed in, looking flustered and tormented.
"Fukitaichou! Give that back!" he demanded, holding a hand out impatiently.
"Hell is this?" Zaraki asked, still staring into the bowl. Yumichika sighed, shifting his weight to one foot and putting his hands to his hips.
"It's a special face mask. Give it back, please," he said, glaring daggers at them both.
"What's it for?" Yachiru asked, smushing her hand back in again, making the fifth seat visibly wince.
"It clenses my pores and gets rid of toxins! If you do that it'll be full of shit!" he cried, running over and snatching it away, walking out the room quickly, nursing the bowl closely.
"How's he such a girl?" Zaraki asked wearily as Yachiru jumped down. She shrugged, toddling over to the door.
"Can I go play with Baldy-kun?" she asked, bouncing over her feet in the doorway. He nodded, waving a hand as he leaned over his desk, littered with reports and documents from last week he couldn't be bothered to read.
"Sure. Try to kill him," he called after her as she shot out. He grinned again.
Maybe Yachiru was pretty awesome, too.