Fandom: Bleach
Author: UnAnimo
Rating: M/NC-17
Status: On Going
Warning: Language and descriptive elements are not suited for minors. Read the ratings for godsakes!
Status: On going
Summary: Aizen’s finally imprisoned and yet the rest of the Gotei have to dig the remains of his hordes. Reports said, and although Aizen was gone and his two minions were dead, along with the ten espadas, Hueco Mundo monsters were still...mobile. Life in Seretei did came back, peace almost welcome them. But for the redhead-fukitaicho of the Sixth Squad seems to him things will go start all over again. After being severely injured, Yamamoto-sotaicho ordered them to go back in Hueco Mundo—to check on things, as he put it adroitly. Renji knew it would take a while before he could go home, and while he was cursing about the damn mission, he decided to agree with Rukia—or rather a bet—to write down every single detail of his daily routine on a journal. A report notes—so to speak. In the beginning, all went well. However, few days later, Renji never realize his own journal became so personal to him.
A/N: It was a journal so I have to lace down the words into minimum—or whatever that is. For future chapters, you will not see only Renji’s narration but the interactions of other characters as well. Oh and ah excuse the errors. PM me if you saw something odd. My hand just keeps on typing like it was posses or something *smile*
Disclaimer: I do not own BLEACH and its character nor do profit from this story.
Beginning...
Okay so how do I begin? Sorry, I’m just new to this kind of...thing. Rukia gave you to me before I left and instructed me how to use you, but all I did was stare at yah in this past days. What is a journal anyway? Not that I’m stupid what the hell meant—I mean, do I have to jot down every single detail of my work, my hobbies? Or even time I shit my pants? God who gave Rukia this idea? Whatever. It’s just feels kinda odd, yah know. Talking shit using fingers to someone or something who can’t talk back. Well at least I could express whatever I feel. I can even curse all I want and no one will care except you. As if you can reciprocate. And that’s my favourite part.
For start, let me introduce myself—in case my idiotic seized me, my name is Renji Abarai, Sixth Division Fukitaicho of Gotei. And this is my journal.
Hueco Mundo. Day Seven.
We were at rest in one of these caves in Hueco Mundo, near our camp. The infirmary was full and the tents are crowded, so we decided to take our few stretches here. We were relieved from our assignments—duties, as they called, and eaten the first unfamiliar food the Gotei handed for us. It’s better than none. For them, this was part of the training. For me, I call it bullshit. Gotei was not so generous when it comes to basic needs. Water and, if you’re lucky, herb tea will save our upset stomach. This is more crucial than my Rungonkai days, where there is freedom. But of course the way of getting food was not that friendly. My fellow shinigami improvised some sake the other night. I don’t know how and I don’t care where did he gets it, but for me each sip was more than just a generosity. To tell you the truth, I was little tipsy last night. Good thing I’m off-duty now or else my superior would kick my ass.
Six days ago we were at least twenty-two shinigami on duty. Some of them were new recruits; shitty and stubborn. Hah, remind you of anyone? I hate their guts, I hate their whining, but there’s nothing I could do but to guide them. Orders of course and that’s why I’m here, to babysit whiners. After three days, a number of hallows surprised us and attack our position, leaving most of us severed and wounded. The new ones were killed, while some of them were lucky enough to stay alive—with missing body parts, of course. One shinigami asked me while in deathbed if he’s going to die. I said no, but he can see it my eyes the answer was otherwise. And before his last breath, he said ‘tell my wife I love her so much’. Crazy kid, nearly dying yet he managed to be romantic. Maybe that was all there is, leaving this world with memories to pass on, and I knew I’ll feel guilty not to comply with his last yearning. So instead smacking his head, yanking him to get over it, I honoured his wish. I’ll do that first thing as soon as I get to Seretei, I said to him. When we left Seretei a week ago, these kids had their excitement on their faces, just like me when I was young. What can you expect from the newly graduates—yup too stubborn and proud for themselves. But now, they curse...even to my presence, without any regards of punishment. They said no wonder folks described us shinigami as expendable. Being a shinigami was indeed an honor, but they’ll definitely decline if they only knew what’s behind Soul Society. Shit, I would. I told them, “Well, guys. Welcome to the club.” Life out here was just another routine for the bastards. Then after that drama, I left him and walked out from the infirmary, soaked in blood. Not mine though. One unseated officer told me we were just fifteen left, and I’m the only one without scratch. Well, of course there is one, and it’s on my arm. A little scratch, too hard to notice, and I have no time for that, besides in a day or two it will be gone.
Last night the superior officer told us to take a rest. How quaint. It’s about damn time. For almost a week, I can’t recall when was the last time I sat, or lay my ass on the white sand, and although I’m the fukitaicho of the Sixth Division, I was the first one to withdraw from the line and headed straight into this cave. Six days without rest—that was my prior reason why I was so pissed. Based on my experience, in the line of duty or even before death, sleep was far more reasonable than anything.
The next day, this day, our seventh day, it was already noon when one of us crawled out from the cave. Noon. Fuck, I don’t know why I even said that. There’s no day in Hueco Mundo. There’s no sun in Hueco Mundo, only that freaking full moon that’s freaks me out and the darkness that goes with it. Perhaps the ration of the food, which serves thrice a day, can tell what time of day it was, and as far as I know, I was one meal left behind. Good thing zanpakuto has no ability consuming foodstuff, ‘coz if that happens, I’ll probably end up with baboon marks and snake bites all over my body.
And when things are getting shittier by the minute, guess who blooms my day again. Captain Hitsugaya.
Before I wrote this down, I was called an hour earlier and he ordered me with his very short—just like his height—‘Patrol the east side, Abarai’ command and then shunpoed away. He too was pissed. I can tell by his turquoise eyes he badly needed his bed. Gotei is breathing down his neck, you know...can’t blame him.
Well. I’ll have to leave you now. Duty first.
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