(Forgive me, those of you who don't read Fan-Fiction, but this is more Bleach Fan-Fiction from Byakuya-hime's POV. I just couldn't help myself; I feel like writing Bleach and this is a chance to get in both character development and practice descriptive writing)
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of its characters, Tite Kubo does *sniffle*
The first time it happened I wasn't sure what to think. There was no note and no disturbance in my office. There was no evidence to suggest that anything untoward had happened within its four bland white walls... except that there was a cookie on a small white plate, innocently staring up at me. I knew I hadn't left that there. That incongruous white circle against the deep polished mahogany wood was unfamiliar, unlike the endless stacks of paperwork that never seemed to leave their supposedly semi-permanent homes at the corners.
Who would leave this here? Abarai? No... he's much too stiff around me to even think of playing a trick on me. Rukia? It could be her, but would she not have left a note?
And though I hated to admit it... it was a tempting offering. My stomach grumbled in complaint of my light breakfast--a mere banana was all I had had time to eat that morning. And here was this perfectly good chocolate-chip cookie, a rare commodity from the human world which was to be relished.
Should I...? No one will ever know...
I did.
And I ate the one I found the next day.
And the day after that.
I suppose, looking back upon it, I should be relieved that they weren't poisoned with some miniscule dose of slow-acting chemicals that would slowly paralyze my limbs or cause my liver to malfunction. Considering that I now know the perpetrators, suffice to say, I shall never eat a random food item from my desk ever again unless I know where it came from. It is a small comfort that no one ever actually found out what happened...
Seven months... for seven months, a cookie rested on my desk each day, and each day I ate it, not feeling the slightest bit guilty about such private indulgence. After all, it wasn't like anyone could see. They would probably just assume I had thrown it away. Which I should have.
Exactly seven months to the day after I had received my very first "gift", I walked into my office to find... something that definitely wasn't a cookie.
My eyes blinked in the dim light, wandering over my desk again... and again, just to be sure. But no. That stack of white was much too big to be a plate with a cookie. It was only after I had lit one of the lamps, filling the spacious office with a smattering of golden light to clash against the first rays of dawn seeping through the shuttered window, that I realized exactly what was sitting on my desk.
They were... clothes?
Cautiously, I lifted the top item, watching as it unfolded to reveal itself as a hakama (1). Only it was white. Soul Reapers did not wear white.
Strange... I wonder if this is someone's idea of a bad joke... Wait, is that a--
A note. There was a note. My fingers reached for the slip of parchment, lifting it from where it rested atop of a pale blue sash. My gray eyes tracked across the unfamiliar, somewhat messy handwriting, and I blinked. It read as following:
To Byakuya-hime (2),
You should join the Dark Side. We have more cookies! :D
Love, Gin-chan (3)
It was the strangest thing ever.
The... Dark Side...? Gin-chan...? As in... Ichimaru?
Click... click... click... The lightbulb went on in my head excitedly. Only the epiphany it sent me wasn't exciting in the least. Had I just been... propositioned by a traitor?
When...? How...? How had he gotten into my office?
For seven months?
Weren't there... guards or something? Was security here really that bad, I wondered, that even with so many Soul Reapers patrolling the streets at night, Ichimaru had been slipping into my office--my office--for seven months straight, risking capture, torture and execution for treason, in order to leave cookies on my desk in a mockery of a practical joke?
I felt a serious headache coming on.
Moreover, my stomach wasn't feeling to good, either. How many cookies was seven months worth? That was a lot of poison... Was I slowly dying? Was this some sort of plot to weaken our defenses even further, by killing off Captains one by one--by feeding them cookies?
But no one else had mentioned...
Then again, I quickly realized, neither had I. Who would I tell? Who would believe me? Until now, I had no proof of foul play; everyone would have assumed that, as usual, Rukia was worshipping her precious brother a little too much.
I need to see the family physician, I decided, setting down the note and trying not to let my nausea actually escalate into full-out vomiting.
I will never eat a cookie again. D*** you, Ichimaru.
Fin
Note: Okay... not as good as I would have liked it, but it's a rough draft and a vague idea, so don't kill me if it's terrible, I'm just having fun!
(1) Hakama: article of traditional Japanese clothing. They actually look kind of like very, very baggy pants. In Bleach, this is what Soul Reapers in their standard uniform wear.
(2) -hime: generally, it's like calling him Princess Byakuya, making fun of his social status
(3) -chan: honorific used to address someone one finds endearing, but it's considered rude to use it when referring to a person of higher status. In this case, Gin is just being cute.
For those of you who don't know or care about Bleach, forgive me for writing so much about it. Ichimaru is on the evil side and is the right-hand man of the main antagonist, if that helps clear anything up. I can't really make it any less confusing than that.
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