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gallusrostromegalus · 4 months

Note

Funky Muguruma Kensei AEIWAM headcanons? Spare serotonins with the blorbos? /j Also what's AEIWAM Mashiro like? She's one of the only characters I genuinely get annoyed by in the canon oof

So the friendship between Kaname and Mashiro is one of my favorite things in the fic so far. Have a spoilerific Scene (Part 1 of ?)

Crickets and Grasshoppers

Scene One of ??? Approximately 7K words Fluff that goes South and won't get (sort of ) better until part 2, warnings for body horror, referenced torture and Emotionally Devastating Betrayal

It was Tuesday November 5th, 1901, Scheduling Day in the Ninth Division and Mashiro was standing in front of the vending machine just down the street from the Ninth, choosing her armaments for the coming battle.

In other divisions, the actual drawing up of rosters was the job of lower-seated officers and the specific parts of the Division they were responsible for. Tousen’s friend Komamura has told her once that the 7th Division’s schedule was so predictable, they only looked at the roster once a year when people retired or were hired. A fascinating concept to Mashiro, who listened to Komamura’s tales of the 7th with the rapt fascination of an anthropologist privileged to hear the folklore of distant and largely unknown people.

The Ninth was… complicated for the sake of simplicity. Information did not move the same way people did, and while the seventh could pass an inbound soul from the Intake Team to Queue Management to the Registry Office, passing an information project from one subdivision to another was a great way to lose said project. So instead of projects moving from subdivision to subdivision as they reached different stages, subdivisions went from stage to stage, following projects.

This meant scheduling had to be done every month, but it beat the hell out of a major archive loss or communications failure.

And it meant that Snackage was in order.

Mashiro surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder to make sure Captain Muguruma was still overseeing drills in the courtyard, then selected 37 cookies, chips, snack cakes, bottles of pop and juice and other goodies from the machine and paid out of the Division Purse.

Kensei, bless him, was a deeply honorable man who was so reliable you could set a watch by him and would probably cross actual Hell to help a friend, but he did not understand scheduling, much less the kind of caloric requirements it held.

-- “You’re just sitting there! What do you need all that for?” He’d asked her once.

“The brain’s the most expensive organ to run in terms of calories.” She’d explained, rolling her eyes and opening a bag of Barbecue-flavored corn chips. “-I know your brain is a plodding cart horse, but you can’t do scheduling. You need my thoroughbred racehorse brain, and it needs snacks!”

He’d given up with a disgusted groan of defeat, which was good, because the other reason she needed the snacks would have actually made him snap. -- Mashiro shoved the snacks into her backpack, checked that Kensei was still distracted by drills, darted back across the street where he might spot her, ran around the back of the division, and jumped up to the third-floor window that had been left open for her.

“The level of subterfuge this perfectly normal administrative process requires…” Fifth-seat Kaname Tousen groaned from where he was lying on the floor, partially under his traditional low desk.

“-Is half the fun, you dork!” Mashiro giggled, closing the window after her as she climbed in. “All the autumn stuff is in the shops and vending machines now, and I made sure to get every persimmon-flavored thing they had just for you!” She grinned down at her chosen assistant for scheduling.

The other purpose for the snacks was Bribery.

Kaname Tousen was, by Mashiro’s estimation, definitely the smartest person in the Ninth Division, and possibly in the entire Soul Society. If the world was a fair place, he’d be lieutenant and she’d be fifth seat, but the world wasn’t a fair place and in the week between Graduation with every honor Shin’o academy had and starting as the 9th Division’s 20th seat, Kaname had been struck down with some sort of horrible spinal infection that damn near killed him, made him miss his entire first month and a half of work, and left him with occasional bouts of crippling pain, like today, when he’d decided to risk worsening Kensei’s already low opinion of him by doing his work lying flat on his back on a hot pad.

Kaname’s services as a Brainiac were much in demand and his availability highly limited, so Mashiro guaranteed her place on his schedule with confection-based compensation.

“I mean, Kensei’s a mean old sack and that’s not great for the division too, but the spy shenanigans and scheduling snacktime really is like, The Highlight Of The Month sometimes.” Mashiro shrugged, flopping down on the floor beside him and dumping the snacks out between them.

“Captain Muguruma’s sense of discipline is intense but very necess- ow. Yeah, that’s not happening.” Kaname sighed, laying back down from trying to sit up. “-He’s a good man. Difficult, sometimes, but a good man.”

“You’re way too nice for your own good. Here’s the Persimmon castella cakes.” Mashiro grunted, handing Kaname the small package and the payroll notes to read.

Kaname groped across his desk for a clipboard, attached the payroll notes to it, propped them up on his stomach so they were balanced on the edge of his desk, and laid all the way back down, face pointed at the ceiling rather than the notes. Mashiro opened up a packet of Amakara rice crackers, watching him with interest as Kaname took off his goggles.

The goggles were what convinced Mashiro he was the smartest man in the Soul Society. Kaname had been born totally blind, but he had figured out how to mount a pair of tiny cameras in the frame of a pair of safety goggles, which were connected to… he’d explained that the little bricks behind the opaque white lenses of his goggles contained something like an obscenely long and complicated Kido spell that spotted readable characters, ‘read’ them, and turned the resulting text into words that played out of the tiny “Microphonogram Speech Players or ‘speakers’ “ hidden in the legs of the goggles. So he could read pretty much anything printed with enough contrast (and decent enough handwriting, Captain Urahara) because his goggles would read it aloud for him. They were much slower than most people read, and sometimes he had to stop work to “charge” the spell that made them work, but they worked a damn treat, and had the added advantage that Kaname himself did not need to be looking at the thing he was trying to read, only the goggles.

So now he unwound the coil of wire that connected the Kido brick to the microphonogram, placed the ‘speaker’ back in his ear, and set the glasses on his chest so he could read the notes while keeping his back and neck pressed to the hotpad.

True Genius, that.

“I love how the cameras wiggle.” Mashiro grinned, watching the two lenses shift and dilate as they focused on the notes. “They move the same way cicadas and grasshoppers shift their eyes independently to focus. It’s so clever to have them operate like that.”

“Hm. That was Kakiyo’s design, not mine.” Kaname smiled. Kakiyo was his adopted and now-deceased sister. “She was always more of an entomologist than me.”

“Weird that you ended up with Suzumushi the cricket for a Zanpaktou then.” Mashiro pondered. She liked Suzumushi- that sword, and her own Musabori Kuu Batta (Devouring Locust) were two of less than One Hundred insect-type Zanpaktou in the court guard, and fewer still that weren’t butterflies. She couldn’t really see Suzumushi- no shinigami could perceive another’s Zanpaktou Spirit- but she could hear Batta’s half of the conversation the two would chirp to each other sometimes.

Kaname paused from opening the persimmon cake packaging with his teeth. “...Yes. Bizarre.” he said, with a rueful finality that Mashiro took as her cue to change the subject.

“Right. Where are we on the Agricultural Practices census?” She sighed, pulling the active projects list and next month’s calendar out in front of her.

“Maegawa-san has requested travel permissions to-” Kaname replied, flipping through the pages, the goggles faintly reading off names as he tracked them with his fingertip. “Ah, ‘pull the damn report out through the East 36th Daimyo’s nose if I have to’, which I think we can call a requisitions expense rather than reconnaissance. Unless you think Lieutenant Fon would enjoy the catharsis as well.”

“She WOULD, actually, that girl is wound tighter than my grandpa’s pocketwatch.” Mashiro nodded, placing the card for “3rd Seat Maegawa” in the “Out Of Office” Pile.

And so it went for a pleasant hour, eating snacks and solving the five-dimensional time, space and payroll puzzle of scheduling, with Kaname helping her keep track of the process and who was not supposed to be doing overtime or couldn’t be trusted to work with someone else or on maternity leave or whatever.

“Alright, I think that’s nearly everyone sorted…” Mashiro muttered, going down the list of all 200 division members to make sure they’d made it onto the roster. “Oh wait, we didn’t put you down!” She giggled.

“I believe my schedule should be identical to last months while we are still doing data entry into the archives, but I do have a request- May I have this coming Friday off?” he asked. “I have an engagement.”

“Who’s getting engaged?” Mashiro teased, erasing him from the roster that day.

Kaname tilted his head a bit, pointing his ear at her with a conspiratorial smirk. “...Can you keep a secret?”

Mashiro blinked at him in surprise, then gasped with delight and leaned in “Cross my heart and hope to die!” She whispered back, giggling.

Kaname regarded her for a moment, teasing. “Love- Captain Aikawa has finally worked up the nerve to propose to Lieutenant Yadomaru.”

Mashiro made a noise like an asthmatic teakettle as she tried to not shriek with delight and deafen Kaname as well, rolling onto her back and kicking her legs in the air with excitement.

“-He wants it to be a surprise though, and Lisa is always going through his bag for his water bottle or whatever at kendo practice and she will notice if his schedule changes, so I need to duck out during lunch today and pick up the ring for him to propose with on Friday.” Kaname elaborated.

“A conspiracy!” Mashiro balled her fists with excitement. “When? Where? Can I come?”

“You got an invitation to Captain Kyoraku’s next moon-viewing party, right?” Kaname asked and she nodded. “It’s then.”

“EEEK!” Mashiro giggled with delight.

“What’re you two giggling about?” Kensei grunted from the doorway, still sweaty from training.

“It’s a SECRET!” Mashiro glared imperiously, sweeping the snack wrappers out of sight off the desk as Kaname sat up with a small grunt of pain and bowed his head in salute.

“Whatever.” Kensei rolled his eyes. “Tousen. Read your report on the dodgy census statistics and possible disappearances in West 66 and I think you’re right. Something stinks on ice out there.”

Kaname gasped sharply with relief and bowed his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I gotta attend a captain’s meeting this afternoon because Urahara has some harebrained new project to show and tell-” Kensei continued, glaring at his battered fingertips where he’d caught a bokto the wrong way during training. “-Saw that Maegawa is gonna be in East 36 and Fukuda’s on maternity leave, so I’m sending every seated officer from you to 15th seat Shizawa out there to investigate and deal with it. You all need to be at the Kido Corps for teleportation at three. Mashiro, don’t burn the place down.”

“OH COME ON!” Mashiro shouted with disappointment.

“HEY! No backtalk! I know you wanna go but someone’s gotta hold the fort-” Kensei glared down at her.

“It’s not me! Kaname has to- I mean-” She sputtered, abruptly remembering his request for secrecy.

“It’s alright!” Kaname tried to smile but ended up grimacing at her as he got up. “I’ll just go get it now and it’ll be in my pocket when I get back!”

Mashiro glared at him for a moment, but sat back down. “Okay. I guess.” She pouted.

“Get what?” Asked Kensei.

“A surprise for Captain Kyoraku’s moon-veiwing party!” Kaname grinned at him as he collected his belongings into his satchel by touch.

Kensei pondered that for a long moment, glaring at Kaname. “...How’d you score an invite?”

“Captain Aikawa invited me along.” Kaname explained over Mashiro’s offended scoff. “We were roommates when we were at the academy and he has very kindly kept inviting me along to things despite my not really being able to keep up with him anymore.”

Kensei regarded him a moment longer. “Huh.” he eventually decided. “Well, see you when you get back from the investigation.” He waved, dismissing Tousen.

“Thank you Sir. Lieutenant Kuna.” Kaname bowed before jogging off.

“See you later Kaname-kun!” Mashiro called after him.

“-Even if he won’t technically see yo- OW!” Kensei yelped as Mashiro clipped him sharply under the ear.

“Why are you so MEAN to him!?” Mashiro glared up at her captain as he rubbed his jaw.

“I’m not mean! I’m just- it’s just office banter!” Kensei growled back. “I can just not like a guy and still be colleagues with him, okay?”

“No, apparently you can’t!” Mashiro “You’ve been really hard on him and getting on his case and teasing him since day one!”

“-More like day thirty-two, he missed the first six weeks of his appointment.” Kensei grumbled.

“That was literally FIFTY years ago and he was in the HOSPITAL. BECAUSE HE NEARLY DIED!” She bellowed, probably loud enough for Kaname to hear in the street but it didn’t matter. “Yeah, it sucked, but it wasn’t his fault! I don’t get why you were mad at him back then, and I really don’t get why you’re still mad about it NOW!”

“I’M NOT MAD ABOUT THAT, I JUST-” Kensei bellowed back but then stopped, hand over his mouth. “...He keeps secrets.”

Mashiro stared at him blankly for a moment, face slowly collapsing from bewilderment into disgust. “OH. MY GOD. You’re the one always going on about operational security! He’s just careful- all the details are in his summarial reports, if you ever read them…”

“I do!” Kensei barked. “And they’re- I mean, All the information he’s required to fill out is there, and then some.” He sputtered, deflating.

Mashiro leaned in close, eyebrow cocked at him.

“...But I keep getting this feeling it’s not the whole picture.” Kensei muttered.

“Ugh!” Mashiro shouted, throwing her hands up and turning away. “So you don’t like him because you have bad reading comprehension?”

“Shut up! I don’t- there’s just something off about that guy! He’s always taking weird days off-” Kensei started, ticking off a list on his fingers.

“You mean the sick days from his spinal infection?” Mashiro glared, arms folded across her chest.

Kensei continued to count his grievances “-and taking secret calls in weird corners-!”

“You mean privately scheduling his medical treatment? For his spinal infection?” Mashiro continued to glare.

“-And getting him to go to the fifth or third division is like pulling teeth! What the hell is up with that?” Kensei demanded.

“You mean the divisions that have A) Lieutenant Iba, the woman who has a weird horoscope-based personal grudge against him-” Mashiro asked, mimicking Kensei’s earlier counting, “-and B) Lieutenant Aizen, who also keeps forgetting he has a spinal injury and slaps Kaname across the shoulders every time they meet? Yeah, I don’t blame him for wanting to avoid two of the most annoying people in the whole court guard!”

“Whatever.” Kensei waved her off. “I’m still right. There’s something off with him. Now get that roster updated and posted!”

“Yes, sir.” Mashiro groaned, rolling her eyes at him and stomping back to Kaname’s office for the Roster.

***

Kaname hadn’t felt this light in years.

Oh god.

Oh, GOD!

Please, please, please please let this be happening?

He sprinted down the road, back towards the apartment that he and Sajin shared, the small box with Love’s ring in his chest pocket. He allowed himself an ounce of elation- After all, I am just a young man who has picked up the engagement ring of one of his best friends! It is exactly what anyone would expect to see-

That was the tricky part of The Curse.

He couldn’t talk about it, like many curses, but it had the added complication that anyone who looked at him- or listened to him, or put their hands on him, or-

Well, they’d only find what they expected to find.

Certainly not a curse.

But curses cut both ways- The broader and less specific a command for someone bearing a curse was, the harder it was to enforce, and it was harder to come up with a command broader and more open to interpretation than “Help Me Kill God”. So as long as Kaname could argue to the curse that an action did “help” some aspect of Aizen’s plans, he could be inefficient, neglect to mention something important, do an assigned task sloppily, fail to cover his tracks and so on- Sometimes Other times, the curse would take effect and cripple him until he relented and obeyed Aizen’s command again. Or at least, managed to convince Aizen he was doing what Aizen wanted.

Aizen hadn’t quite realized it, but he was also subject to his own illusions, and there was a gap- a mirror image, if Kaname understood mirrors correctly- so long as he appeared as Aizen expected, Aizen wouldn’t notice him sabotaging Aizen’s machinations. So for the last three years, Kaname had done his best to appear tired and overworked and failing from exhaustion rather than malice, or like he was starting to agree with Aizen, which is exactly what the narcissist expected after fifty years of mental, physical and spiritual torture.

It was finally paying off.

He’d managed to make the kidnappings Aizen and Gin had been conducting on the villagers of West 56 appear by conducting a census that showed the discrepancy of expected versus actual population. -And made sure the increased hollow activity in the area from Aizen’s experiments showed up in the 10th Division’s monitoring statistics. - And the weird waves of reiatsu visible on the 12th’s monitoring equipment- not what people expected to see, but by keeping all the evidence noticed by unrelated parties, he kept it out of the scope of Aizen’s Illusions.

Kyoga Suigetsu took a lot of energy to operate, and Tousen was pretty sure Aizen could only passively fool about 150 at a time- he chose mostly his own division and people he saw daily, like his neighbors and cross-division colleagues, and could only actively alter the reality of maybe 20 people at once- the other captains and a few key would-be witnesses. So a rural census-taker, and two members at the bottom ranks of other divisions weren’t actively subject to the illusion.

He had to do it on faith, that someone would notice-

Kaname felt like he’d been holding his breath for weeks now, doing his best to tell Aizen and the constantly-itching nails in his spine that this was a Perfectly Normal Database Cross-referencing project- very boring, but it will be missed if it’s not done, Lord Aizen- and nothing to draw attention to the horrible Laboratory…

…By some miracle, Mugurama had read the report, understood and believed it- Kensei had a naturally suspicious mind, so Kaname made sure the report was full of “It's entirely possible this is all a weird coincidence!” to make him suspicious. The curse only showed people what they expected to see, and for once, Kensei’s natural pessimistic expectations allowed him to see the truth.

24 hours. That’s all I have left.

The only people in the Ninth Aizen had under his Active Influence were Kensei and Mashiro, so he wouldn’t be able to hide the nature of the laboratory from the investigation team without dropping the Active Illusion on someone else and risk discovery- and so long as Aizen didn’t find out about the expedition, he wouldn’t know to make that shift in time.

24 hours. I only need to keep Aizen distracted for 24 hours.

In Aizen’s personal quarters, The Distraction Apparatus waited.

Aizen was mistaken to force Kaname to do his lab work for him- Kaname understood it better than him now, and had pulled aside a little trick to confuse him. The Hogyoku bonded with its user, almost like a zanpaktou, and communicated with them- it purred when Aizen fed it, and whined when it was hungry. Aizen knew about Suzumushi’s Bankai- he’d insisted Kaname develop it under his supervision, so he would know of all Kaname’s abilities. But he only knew it from the inside, and hadn’t realized that not only was anyone inside blind, deaf and without any form of sensory input, neither could anyone on the outside sense anyone within. It was worth it to break Suzumushi like that. It was actually her idea, to break the guard of his Zanpaktou and separate the ring from it. That’s where the Bankai was stored, and with a hell of a lot of practice, he’d learned to cast it remotely.

It had been months before he had an opportunity- Kaname would never forgive what had been done to that poor angel, but during one of the The Sessions where Aizen was using the Hogyoku to change the angel, Kaname was able to get ahold of the little Illusion box Aizen kept the infernal device in, Secure Suzumushi’s ring to the floor, disguise the tampering with a false floor, and return the box to it’s place without Aizen’s notice. The Ring had been waiting there for months.

24 hours, and the secret will be out.

He’d memorized Aizen’s schedule- in 22 minutes Aizen would be entering the reiatsu-locked laboratory of the 12th with his own Captain Shinji for Kisuke’s Demonstration, and would not be able to feel Kaname activate his Bankai. When he came back out, it would seem like the Hogyoku had vanished. And for all Aizen would be able to tell, it had- he wouldn’t be able to perceive the Hogyoku or it’s illusion box until Kaname released his Bankai.

So for now, Kaname acted exactly like Aizen would expect him to act- a little tired, a lot in pain, but elated that two of his best friends were getting engaged, and that he’d be able to help. That was a natural source of excitement, and definitely not any kind of counter conspiracy-

Kaname jogged down the stairs to the apartment, ring box in his pocket, heart hammering, hands shaking a bit as he took out the keys to unlock his door, grabbed the knob that was not there and was suddenly off balance and falling- Into something soft and steady that carefully picked him up like a child’s doll and set him back on his feet, gently taking his hands.

“Are you alright?” Sajin asked, soft, deep voice tinged with concern. “My apologies, I was just trying to do some house cleaning while the weather is mild and had the door open for ventilation.”

“Y- yeah! I’m. I’m alright. Just- distracted. I’ve had some good news!” He grinned up at his friend.

“Oh?” Sajin asked, tugging lightly at Kaname’s fingertips to indicate he should step inside. “Mind your way, I have all the chairs out in the living room so I can sweep.”

They had been living in this garden-level apartment for the forty years since Sajin had followed Kaname into the court guard, and under the same roof at the Akaido City Library for many years before that, and their domestic arrangements settled into a comfortable and comforting routine- Kaname was incapable of seeing grime, so Sajin did the housekeeping, and Sajin would eat raw, expired meat if left unattended, so Kaname did the cooking and shopping.

Kaname followed his lead, hand reflexively on Sajin’s instinctively proffered arm to keep balance while he unbuckled and took off his boots- the gestures of proximal intimacy had calcified into a secret language between them.

“Thanks-” Kaname stood up and stepped in with a guiding hand on the wall. He could normally navigate the apartment by memory alone. “-I’m only here for a few minutes, I’ve also got a deployment I need to pack for.”

“Deployment?” Sajin asked, following after him, voice slightly muffled from the cloth mask he wore over his face- at least when the door was open. Being mostly underground had it’s advantages- Kaname didn’t need much light and Sajin possessed almost superhuman darkvision, and the small, high windows that were obscured by bushes gave them enough Privacy that Sajin could relax and keep his face bare at home.

24 hours.

Maybe. Maybe when it all came out, and the dust settled--Assuming they don’t hang me alongside Aizen, which was a big If--But once it was all said and done and I still draw breath- Maybe I will have the courage to ask Sajin what it is he feels he needs to hide.Surely, he is far too gentle to be half so monstrous as he claims.

“Kaname?” Sajin prompted, and Kaname realized he’d been silent for nearly a minute. “S-sorry. I just. Captain Muguruma finally read my report on West 66 and ordered and immediate investigation, so I have to be at the Kido corps by three-” “Kaname.” “Ah, No don’t worry, I’ll get dinner prepared so you only have to put it under the broiler, and There’s um-” “Kaname.”

“-I’ll be back by Friday for Love and Lisa’s- Right- Here, I need you to-” He sputtered, dozens of ideas baying for his attention at once, patting his chest for the ring box- “Kaname!” Sajin snapped, and his giant hands were on Kaname’s shoulders again, turning him around in place to face his friend, gloved hand suddenly under his chin, holding his face up for Sajin to glare at. “...When was the last time you slept?”

“I’m fine!” Kaname tried to jerk back, laughing defensively.

“You’ve gone to bed after me and gotten up before me, if you went to bed at all for at least a week, and I’m doing maximum overtime. You don't have bags so much as matched luggage under your eyes and can’t finish a sentence coherently. You’re not touching anything in the kitchen.” Sajin rattled off, giving Kaname’s chin a light shake. “...it’s not yet eleven, and the Kido Corps is less than ten minutes from here. I’ll see to your packing. Lie down. Please.”

Kaname sighed, shoulders slumping. “Sajin, I- I need to-”

“You need. To sleep.” Sajin rumbled, no room in his voice for argument.

Kaname panted for a moment, realizing that if Sajin wasn’t holding him in place he’d be swaying with exhaustion.

24 hours.

…I can spend one or two of them resting.

If I don’t manage to prove my innocence, I’ll want to have at least this to think about on the gallows.

“...Stay with me until I fall asleep?” Kaname asked, voice soft. “It’s just. It’s been a lot.” “Of course.” Sajin hummed, rubbing his cheek. “I also need to, ah- use facilities, first.” he grimaced, and Sajin let him go.

“I’m coming in after you if I think you’ve passed out on the floor.” Sajin threatened.

“That happened ONE TIME-!” Kaname protested, following the wall to the bathroom.

Once inside, he checked the time again.

If the meeting had stuck to schedule, they should be inside the 12th’s labs now.

Kaname sent Aizen a test message to his Soul Pager.

> Mandatory Status Report: Muguruma handed me a sudden assignment. Won’t be back until Friday.

If he was outside the Reiatsu-locked lab, that missive would have Aizen furiously calling him in under five minutes. He timed it, relieving himself and washing his hands as he waited-

Nothing.

“Here goes…” he muttered, hoping the sound of the bathroom fan and the running water would cover his voice. He focused, feeling the silver ring start to rotate in his mind, the way it multiplied and stretched, the rings dancing a circle on that which needed to be concealed-

“-Bankai.” He whispered, skin tingling-

-And suddenly he was keenly aware of the hogyoku and it’s illusion box, as though he were holding it, both wholly contained and hidden by his Bankai.

It is done The distraction is set. In a few hours, all will be revealed to the rest of the court guard. There. All I need to do now was follow the assignment like I was told and investigate the- the-

-He suddenly he felt the Bankai’s draw on his power and he collapsed over the sink, retching and knees shaking with how weak he felt. The skin on the back of his neck prickled and almost tasted like vinegar in the back of his mind, high-pitched ringing between his ears.

The nails sizzled ominously but there was no power behind it- It’s alright- I can- I can deal with this. Just breathe, come on dumbass, you just need to keep breathing for another 24 hours.

“Kaname? Sajin called.

“Nothing broke!” Kaname called back, forcing himself to his feet and stumbling back against the wall. He tested the Bankai again- It holds. Very convenient of you Suzumushi, that I only need to cast and feed it, rather than concentrate…

Suzumushi chriped distractedly, her focus on maintaining the Bankai. With her concentration, the illusion would hold even as he slept. Cold water on his face and neck, trying to make himself vaguely presentable and the room stop spinning as he stumbled out- oh, Sajin is right here, how thoughtful of him…

“It’s alright, just follow me…” Sajin soothed, guiding him along to the Thick Futon and large collection of pillows they used as a couch- nothing with legs would bear Sajin’s weight for long. He allowed Sajin to pull him down, settling beside Kaname until he was wedged between Sajin’s giant body and the collection of cushions, head on his friend’s chest, listening to his heartbeat- A little slower than mine, and steady- always so steady- so-

Kaname was asleep before he completed the thought.

---

Scene two: 23 hours later

“It’s just up this way Mister Shinigami!” The boy said, his hot little hand pulling Kaname along.

They’d gotten to West 66 and Kaname had realized he’d been wrong to worry about looking like he already knew the way to the Laboratory- Iruka Village had taken some fairly extreme defensive measures against the kidnappings since the last time he’d been forced out here- Barricades errected, bridges taken out, and even the road torn up and replanted to hide the route to the village. Kaname was entirely turned around before they even set foot in the Village and started asking the peasants if there was anything unusual nearby.

Fortunately for the expediency of the investigation, one Young Shuuhei Hisagi was extremely eager to help, giving them a detailed accounting of the strange activities at the old foundry, where someone had turned one of the kiln’s back on and there was “An ‘lectric” generator and it smelled a lot like someone was cooking rancid pork but he’d never seen anybody there, even when he went into the basement because he wasn’t ascared of it, weird that there’s a basement, nobody makes basements here as it’s a swamp-

Kaname felt his skin go cold when he realized the boy had somehow gotten inside and made notes and even poked some of the machinery, but given he hadn’t tried to actually chew Kaname’s arm off as he lead the Ninth Division Investigation team to the Lab, he was probably uncontaminated…

“There’s a hill an’ it’s on the other side- mind the branch.” Young Shuuhei was one of the great tragedies of the poor parts of the Rukongai- whip-smart and observant and thoughtful, but illiterate from the lack of teachers, and likely destined for an early grave if the statistical average lifespan out here held true. His Reiryoku shimmered at the edges- with a little training and a better diet he might even make for a good Shinigami.

Maybe if I live through this I can get him a scholarship. Kaname mused, trying to think about literally anything but the nauseating familiarity of the smell creeping over the hill.

“Mr. Hisagi?” he asked in the polite voice he’d cultivated as the Head Librarian to indicate to children he was taking them very seriously.

The Boy snapped to attention. “Sir?”

“Thank you for leading us here, but I absolutely cannot allow you any closer. It’s extremely dangerous here-” he started to explain.

“I been in before! An’ the door’s trickylike you gotta pull the handle up and in and rattle it to get in and then prop somethin’ in the gap or it locks back behind you-” Shuuhei explained, gesturing like Kaname could see him demonstrating.

“-And you were lucky to get out in one piece! I also need you to do a very important job.” Kaname sighed, familiar with this kind of kid- slightly too bright and kind-hearted for his own good, but reliable at a task- “-I can hear that some of your friends have followed us from the village. They’re about a quarter mile behind us-”

“Dangit Suichi-!” Shuuhei muttered under his breath. “-Yeah that’s probably my little brother and his friends. You want me to go chase him back home?”

“Precisely. Also, tell everyone to get indoors and stay put until they get an all-clear. Just in case something goes wrong, I need everyone to stay safe until re-enforcements arrive. So go get everyone back home and inside, alright?” “Yessir!” Shuuhei snapped a salute and Kaname heard some of the other Shinigami giggle behind him.

“I’m glad I can rely on you.” He nodded, and shooed Shuuhei down the road. The boy took off, hollering for his brother.

“I didn’t know you were so good with kids.” Laughed Sixth Seat Todo Izaemon. “Cute little thing too-”

“Being in charge of the West 51 Children’s Intensive Literacy School teaches you how to get along with them.” He shrugged. “Alright, I can’t sense anything, but that doesn’t mean danger is not present. Even numbered seats- go west and approach from the north. Odd numbers, we go east and approach from the south.”

“Sir!” Izaemon nodded, the next ranked officer.

Kaname approached the building at a crouch, straining to hear- the brief nap Sajin had insisted on and six-pack of illicitly acquired 4th Division “Stamina Supplements” were doing what they could for him, but everything hurt and Suzumushi’s Bankai was even more draining than he’d anticipated and he could barely sense more than a few feet around him. But he found the door- Shuuhei was right, the Handle was starting to go out of alignment- Up and in, right? Yeah- and when nothing behind it exploded, he cautiously stepped in.

“Nobody ran out our side Sir!” Izaemon called and Kaname acknowledged him with a nod.

“What the hell IS this place?” Seventh-seat Akishita asked, looking around the room. This was the main floor of the laboratory, where the bulk of Aizen’s butchery was done- the whole place reeked of rotting flesh and sulfur- byproducts of the ‘Hollowfication Process’, and Kaname very nearly tripped on a groove gashed into the floor that hadn’t been there last time.

“That looks like an office or control room up there-” Kaname said, pointing to the partial second story that took up the west third of the building that he REALLY hoped was still there. “-Akishita, with me. Lets see if there’s a schematic or something.”

“Sir!” She agreed.

Oh good, it is still there. He thought, trying to not pant with pain- oh god, his eyes were burning and spine felt like it was actively dissolving he was so TIRED- He touched his watch, checking the time again.

24 minutes. Come on, just a little more-

He got to the door at the top of the stairs, Akishita behind him.

“Are you alright Sir?” She asked.

“What?” He jerked towards her.

“You seem… really off today.” She frowned. He could sense the shape of her this close, and the way her hand on the hilt of her Zanpaktou. Maybe just resting, maybe not.

“I- I haven’t been sleeping well. Nightmares.” He gulped. That was actually entirely true. Still the nails sizzled louder and he winced. “-I -I might need to put in for sick leave when we get back.”

“You really should. You look awful.” She nodded, hand off the hilt.

Kaname nodded, and carefully opened the door into the control room. He felt Akishita turn, making sure nothing unexpected followed them as he stepped in- no traps, but a strange sort of coldness- not a draft, like a there was a block of ice in here-

The door slammed shut behind him.

“Heya Goggles!” a boy’s voice drawled behind him.

-Or a snake.

Kaname froze, skin going cold as Akishita called for him from the other side of the door.

“Gin?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“She’s right, you look like shit!” the boy laughed, activating a Kido seal that barricaded them in the room. “-Boss sent me to talk to you because the CRAZIEST thing happened at the Captain’s meeting this morning!”

“-Please tell me Urahara’s latest crime against nature maimed him? I could use some good news.” Kaname groaned, complaining like usual, like nothing was wrong. There was more shouting from the main floor. He braced himself, feet under his shoulders, feeling Gin’s aura twist as he decided on an angle to strike from.

“Oh nah, Aizen-sama is wrapping things up and planting evidence over at the 12th right now, that’s why I’m here!” Gin laughed. “No, Your Boss Muguruma stopped everyone before Urahara’s demonstration to tell everyone about this report you submitted sayin’ several hundred people had vanished in West 66! The other haoris were all horrified, I tell ya- Captain Hirako just about shit bricks! Hollerin’ Aizen-sama’s ear off about it the whole way back to the fifth!”

Kaname gripped Suzumushi’s hilt.

“Oh now don’t be unfriendly! I even got somethin’ for ya!” Gin laughed, and tossed something his way. Knowing better than to catch anything he threw, Kaname waited for it to hit the floor-

PING!

-Stomach turning over as he recognized the metallic chime of Suzumishi’s ring.

“Neat trick by the way- Aizen must have spent ten hours turning over the fifth looking for the Hogyoku!!” Gin laughed. “-He didn’t actually find it neither, if it’s any consolation. But he has me, and I got…Abilities.” The boy leered as Kaname Swiped the ring from the ground- Suzumushi had been strangely quiet, and only now did he realize that at some point the sensory illusion of his Bankai had been reversed. Louder yelling from the main floor and the sound of Akishita preparing a Hakudo Kido to blow the door in on the other side.

“-Shit.” Kaname growled, reconnecting the ring to the hilt, Suzumushi whimpering in pain.

“Madder than a mosquito in a mannequin factory he is!” Gin chuckled, then surged forward. Even on a good day, Gin was nearly impossible to block and tonight-

“-Sorry goggles, but I got orders. Rikujokoru!” he hissed fingertips on kaname's sternum, and Kanane was slammed to the ground, six beams of Kido energy hitting his middle, paralyzing him completely. “Aizen-sama says if you can get outta this and get home you can live, but if I’m honest, I don’t really like your odds-” Gin explained, walking over to the control panel and flicking it on, the machines whirring to life and something rumbling beneath them.

…Basement. Kaname realized. The boy said there was a basement- there wasn’t one last time?

There was a loud hissing as vents opened and gas streamed out of the floor into the main room, the sickening scent of rotting fruit comingled with melting plastic- The Hollowfication Compound? It’s a gas now!?

The shouting turned to screaming.

Oh God.

The screaming turned to roaring.

Oh god, no. Please-

“- 'Specially not now.” Gin leered, patting him on the shoulder as he turned to leave. “Bye-Bye! See you tomorrow-! …Maybe.”

Kaname could hear Gin leaving out the small fire window up at the roofline and he struggled, concentrating his reiatsu in his mouth to speak the counterspell- “-Horses of wind and gale, river of thread-

-Akishita screamed in the hall, and there was the terrible wet sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones-

“- By Shadow and storm, unbind me!” He hissed, and the spell dissipated with the loud sound of shattering glass. Kaname scrambled to his feet, standing up in time to feel the gaze of ten newly-turned hollows fall upon him. His watch pulsed against his wrist, the timer for 24 hours Going off.

“Well. I did say it would be over one way or another, didn’t I?” He grimaced, drawing Suzumushi as his former colleagues charged the plate glass that separated them.

---

Part two approximately whenever I finish it :)

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #kaname tosen #Kaname Tousen #mashiro kuna #kensei muguruma #Sosuke Aizen #gin ichimaru #Bleach #bleach fanfiction

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 1 month

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Hear me out I am very high from a edible rn but HEAR ME OUT DUDE

so we all know Chris Evans and his absolute slutty build like cmon he literally was nicknamed the human dorito bc slutty waist

Anyways thinking about that one promo pic of Chris in the cap suit with his back turned to the camera and his ass is just perfect ANYWAYS FR THIS TIME

Thinking about stucky but not like dating but Bucky being obsessed with Steve’s absolutely slutty figure and once the two get close to being fully retired Steve gets bigger as he slowly grows accustomed to taking it easy for once. but not exactly just fatter everything is the same but somehow softer and bigger. His thighs spread out more when he sits his chest is massive not quite defined pecs but far from being flabby moobs they’re just huge, his abs are long gone but he doesn’t have a round gut (Atleast when he’s empty) and the best part that makes bucky go crazy is his love handles , ass, and thighs, all perfectly packed together in one big package that makes Bucky lose his shit. Steves ass has nearly doubled but it’s still a perfect bubble butt, and his thighs have filled out enough to close any gap that might’ve occurred even when he has a wide stance. (Think those really chunky frat boys that manspread and their thighs are still somehow touching) BUT Steve’s suit and most of his wardrobe hasn’t changed so his clothes just accentuate his assets. His thighs and ass taking up most of the room in his pants and they perfectly leave Steve’s bulge completely on display almost like a gift from god to Bucky. Anyways I’m sure if you did add to this you’d be able to express that better than I could! And if you don’t THATS ALSO COOL (pls by no means feel like you have to answer this right away )

THIS HAS VIBES 🤤🤤

You know what kind of vibes? Exhibitionist Captain America vibes from this post by iwritetheweirdstuff

And I assume you're talking about this photo, which I nabbed from forchrisevans

Okay, shit...

Now you just have me thinking about chunky but still super fucking muscular Steve. I’m going off the rails over here, biting and clawing at my enclosure. I don’t think this rambling is actually totally related to your original idea, so just know I love your original idea!

But this reaoly gets me because Steve would be such a fucking classic MAN. Yanno? Big and heavy and robust. He looks like he could take Bucky in his big, beefy arms and rip him apart. He’s healthy. Hefty. Rippling muscles hidden under this layer of pudge.

Yum.

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink ahead. Warning for weight gain, muscle chub talk, tight clothes, Bucky being a little creepy by drooling over Steve before they're an item, etc.

Before gaining weight and when he was wearing the title of Captain American so tightly that it was suffocating him to the point that he was unforgiving of himself, never good enough as Steve Rogers, Steve was like a Thoroughbred. A racehorse, smooth and lean, with a single objective. Win. But now that he’s looser with the title and deciding what he wants for himself, more often calling himself a nomad than going by Cap… now he’s gruff, ignoring the rules (ignoring them even more than he did before, which is saying something for a troublemaker like him), and he’s like a Clydesdale. He’s a tank.

A fucking beast.

When he’s running, you get out of the fucking way because of all the mass behind that force. If you let him collide with you at full speed, full force… it ain’t pretty. His feet pound the ground. Jesus wept. These days his chest, belly, and ass shake when he runs, even when his big, big body is wrapped tightly in all that deep, navy-blue Kevlar. The sight just destroys Bucky.

Bucky can’t fucking fight next to him anymore when they’re called in for Avenging every now and again, half-retired as they are. It was bad enough when Steve was that Thoroughbred, rippling lean muscle and a shiny, bright blond head of short hair. Always distracting Bucky. But now it’s worse because Steve is a Clydesdale with this heft to him and his dirty blond hair and dark, thick beard. He’s even letting his body hair grow in, and it’s all Bucky can do to not faint, landing face-first into the deepening cleavage between his robust pecs, inhaling the musk of him. Every time Steve grunts with the effort of punching or kicking or tearing some offending villain to pieces, Bucky swears he feels faint. He has this completely involuntary feral reaction to the burly man he’s become. Hunky. Stocky. Ripped. Hefty. Whatever fucking word there is for the built he’s got going… it makes Bucky’s mouth water.

Of course, Steve’s still only two inches taller - 6’2” to Bucky’s 6’0” - but suddenly he feels a whole foot taller, and he feels twice as wide as Bucky. Those broad shoulders are only made wider, reinforced by the extra protein he’s eating, thickening his muscles and adding soft pudge; his pecs are still high and tight but even more… they’re swollen almost, added to by an irresistible layer of fat that Bucky has the primal urge to bite; the abs he had once upon a time, defined enough to use as a washboard have softened, especially after a hearty meal like a good lumberjack’s breakfast or a caveman’s dinner, just, these big plates with plenty of meat piled onto them, which turn his stomach into this drool-worthy curve, a little belly that sticks around until he somehow manages to digest it all; that fucking ass made even rounder and more shapely to the point that his pants all strain across it, his sweats especially, nearly splitting down the middle whenever he gets out of his comfy recliner; his thighs, oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they’re ripe, rubbing together and trying to bust outta his jeans, his sweats, even his Captain America uniform.

Bucky has it bad.

If he weren’t so focused on trying to not let his animal out, growling and just fucking tackling Steve to the floor, he would feel terrible for how much he’s sexualizing his best pal. It seems no matter what he’s doing, Bucky’s caveman brain is thinking about how to best peel him out of his too-small clothes. Too tight when he was lean with rippling muscles, barely any body fat on him, and especially too fucking tight now when he has this delicious extra give to him. He looks like a size two sausage stuffed into a size one casing. Bucky curses his wardrobe at the same time that he would fall to his knees and thank it with his hands pressed together, praying to it. He wants to be there for the day that Steve busts out of it after a heavy, hearty, indulgent dinner.

‘Cause, listen, Bucky’s spank bank is just overflowing these days:

When the most recent battle is done and Steve bends over to pick up a fucking massive slab of concrete, he unintentionally gives Bucky a front-row seat to his thick ass. His curves barely fit in his uniform these days. Honestly, Bucky doesn’t know how he puts that godforsaken, tight-as-hell uniform on by himself anyway. And he doesn’t want to think about it. Not in public! The only way he can imagine it happening is with Steve naked save for a jock strap, alone in his room. First, he steps into the legs, then he works it up his calves, getting it to his thighs where it gets stuck. He’s outgrowing it. It’s a tight fit, but he still fits for now. At least, he fits when he shimmies and wiggles into it. Better than a damn stripper. Moving his body in this unintentionally, totally sexy way. Wiggling. Pulling. Squirming. Even jumping while he’s at it, pulling hard at the thick Kevlar, his biceps bulging - they’re bigger than Bucky’s fucking head now - grunting as he holds his breath, sucking in. Sucking in! His chest expanding without his pudgy, starter belly going anywhere, stubborn and jiggly.

Whenever he bends over, he gives Bucky a show, really. It doesn’t matter where they are...

When he’s bent over looking at the leaky pipe under their kitchen sink, his waist filling more of the open cabinet than it once would have. While he’s down there, his shirt rolls up over his soft little hips, the new weight just beginning to accumulate there. The start of what could be real love handles someday.

When he’s looking through the bottom drawer of the fridge, doing a head count before they head out for groceries. He’s not dressed yet, though, so he doesn’t have a belt to hold his pants up and his sweats slide down the shelf of his ass, displaying just enough of his asscrack for Bucky to feel starved, meaning he’s extra grumpy at having to wander around an overcrowded store. Shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Hungry and horny.

When he’s drawing on the couch and he accidentally lets a pencil fall onto the floor, so he has to get up, but, oops, it looks like it must’ve rolled under the couch so he gets even lower. Onto his knees and forearms. Searching blindly for the pencil… blind to Bucky’s eyes, perving out on how his thighs touch from the back now, his legs getting just as thick as his ass is. And it’s thick.

When he’s doing stretches on their balcony in the morning, breathing in the fresh air, doing some cat-cows, and inadvertently displaying his new belly that’s still rumbling through last night’s dessert. A classic, couple 'a slices of pie and ice cream. Too much pie and ice cream judging by how distended his belly looks.

When they’re getting some of their energy out now that they’re not constantly going out and avenging, half-retired, by sparing with each other in the gym. Sparing, kind of wrestling, too. They’re not trying to be tactical about it, they’re just having fun, being big kids, reminiscent of the days when they’d pull the mattress off the bed and start to play fighting on the floor. But they aren’t kids and Steve isn’t so much smaller than him, so Bucky doesn’t have to focus on finding that perfect balance of holding back just enough where it doesn’t seem like he is but he’s also not at risk of pushing Steve’s frail body too far. Now they can really whale on each other. Which is fun… until it isn’t. Because Bucky is laughing and sweating and actually starting to feel tired, and then he’s pinned, and he’s choking back a moan, sweating harder. Steve is on top of him. Steve is crushing him. Steve’s big, hot chest is against his back - Bucky can feel how he’s sweating through his skintight white t-shirt, his thick pecs squishing against his shoulder blades. Steve’s delightful, chubby, little belly is slotted perfectly into the small of his back. While fighting, Bucky’s shirt has risen up, and apparently, Steve’s has done the same, despite how firmly it had been clinging to his soft middle the last time he dared to sneak a peak because now their sweaty, hot skin is pressed together. Steve’s hairy tummy is tickling him, making Bucky want to squirm. He wants to moan. It’s a good fucking thing he’s face-down with Steve on top of him. He wants more than just to squirm and moan, he wants to hump the floor like an animal because with Steve’s tits pressed to his back and his belly squished to his back, it aligns his crotch right up against his ass. Bucky can feel Steve’s dick on his ass through the thin layers of their sweatpants and underwear. He can feel how heavy it is. And he’s thinking about how Steve’s dick probably blushes a dusky pink and gets wet at the time and how it probably curves a little and gets so thick when he’s hard and… this is where Bucky dies because Steve readjusts himself, making it worse by spreading his killer thighs to either side of Bucky’s legs, practically grinding into him, trapping him between his watermelon-crushing thighs. “Had enough?” Steve teases him with a shit-eating grin. God. Only if the fucker knew.

When Natasha adopts a new, abandoned kitten that she’s named Liho and they go over to play with him at Tasha’s apartment and Steve decides to grin like he does, always breath-taking, his smile the sweetest, most affectionate thing as he lifts Liho up above his head like Simba in the Lion King (yes, they’ve caught up on that modern pop culture reference, thank you very much). Bucky nearly goes cross-eyed, staring at his pecs. His t-shirt clings to his round, heavy tits. With his arms up, it forces his pecs to move up, too. High and plump. Bucky can see every detail of them, he can see every breath he takes, making them heave, and he’s almost able to pick out the tiniest creaking groan of the seams of his shirt screaming under all that pressure. Tasha doesn’t bat an eye, at the treatment Steve is giving her new companion, she just squeezes past Steve in her kitchen (is the apartment that small, or is Steve that big?), flicking one of his hard nipples. The points of them are obvious through the straining, thin fabric. She refills her mug with coffee but she doesn’t take a sip until she reminds Steve that if he wants to see how much more comfortable running can be, he only has to say the word and she’ll show him the magic of sports bras. Everyone can see that he needs it, and he might as well embrace it. They can even get matching ones if he wants. Her smile is razor-sharp, teasing. Bucky nearly chokes on his tongue, imagining the heavy mounds of his tits hoised up higher, giving him even more cleavage than he normally sports. Guh. Bucky wouldn’t survive.

When later during that same day, Steve decides he’s going to lie down on Natasha’s couch as they watch a movie - some Russian production that Tasha’s been telling Bucky about forever (he’s hardly paying attention and it’s Steve’s fault that he’s going to have to watch this again, on his own, during one of his sleepless nights when he can pay attention to it) - and Liho decides that Steve’s his favorite. So, he wanders back over to curl up on his soft chest and belly and starts fucking kneading his plush chest and belly like it’s the comfiest, fluffiest pillow ever. It probably fucking is! And Bucky can’t blame the kitten for purring so loudly - despite Steve’s and Tasha’s amusement at it - Bucky would be no better. He spends the rest of the evening biting the inside of his cheek and trying to banish all the mental images of his own hands kneading and squishing and groping those tits until Steve’s blushing, his mouth open, eyes heavily lidded, sweat beading at his hairline, begging Bucky to move on and touch him somewhere else, anywhere else! His nipples swollen and so hard. Irrestable. Bucky would indulge him… sort of. He would move on. But he’d have to give the same thorough attention to his soft belly, his growing hips, his thick thighs, and his fat ass. His body deserves to be pleasured until he’s out of his mind.

When Steve’s loose and warm, they’re hanging out in some back-alley sports bar in Brooklyn for a game, watching the feed on TV, downing beers and greasy bar food with Sam and some other guys from the VA, and a sip goes down the wrong pipe so Steve has to pound his chest with a closed fist, ending up not coughing but belching loudly. For everyone else, the sound is covered by the rowdy cheers filling the crowded, dimly lit space. But not for Bucky. For Bucky, Steve is the only thing in focus. Steve, with his looser fit shirt disguise, blending in, his baseball cap tugged down low on his forehead, shading his eyes, his beard grown out, thick, and… Bucky can’t take it. His body. The way his belly scrunches up when he sits down, bulging out further. The way his throat moves when he chugs from a long-necked bottle. The way his pecs jiggle when he jumps up excitedly, cheering loudly, and the similar way his belly wobbles at the same time. The way he groans at the end of his beer burp, voice rough from yelling all night and soaked in hoppy, malty richness. The way his thighs spread out over his bar stool, expanding, stressing the seams of his jeans. He’s taking up so much space with his broad shoulders, excitable hand gestures as he talks, and his manspreading. Yet, it’s still not enough. His thighs fill out his tight, dark-wash denim so well that even when he’s manspreading, his thighs still touch. Bucky aches to curl up in his lap and kiss him, feeling his beard tickling his face. He wants the heat of that big, big body underneath him. He wants to feel the hot line of his erection when he grinds down into him - their stomachs pressed together, Steve’s heavy with bloating, greasy, fattening bar appetizers.

Bucky’s spank bank is over-fucking-flowing as Steve starts putting on weight and if Bucky didn’t know better, he would think Steve is doing it to him on purpose, teasing him, trying to get him to jump his bones 😏

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #weight gain #stuffing #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #chubby steve #alcohol consumption #tight clothes

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