95Author's note: Hello everybody. I wrote a new Bleach story. As I stated in the summary, it's companion piece to Hitsugaya's nightmare and it is written in similar style. Only it is longer and because I decided that 10k was too high wordcount for an oneshot, I divided it into chapters. Each of them describes one part of the nightmare and I will post a new chapter daily. I hope you'll enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Matsumoto Rangiku dragged herself into her room. Today had been hell. Her captain had been always a slavedriver, making her work when she needed her beauty sleep or sleep off a hangover, confiscating her sake, not caring how expensive brand it was, and shouting at her for no reason at all, but today, today he had turned into a monster.
So what if he got chewed by Yamamoto for not handing in his paperwork before the deadline? It wasn't her fault. Well, if she was completely honest, she had to admit she had been the one tasked with delivering it, and she thought he even told her to hurry, but she had spotted a sale on her favorite makeup on the way and surely nobody could expect her to resist that? And than she ran into Renji and Shuuhei and it would have been rude of her not to say hello to them. And the proper way of saying hello was over a cup of sake or two. She really had no idea what had happened to the stack of paperwork; she had no idea what had happened after they got kicked out of the second bar. But her taichou had acted like it was all her fault. Seriously, sometimes he was just so unfair.
He had made her redo all the paperwork she had lost, and it was such a huge pile. And he even had the gall to bind her to the desk, like she would try to escape. Well, she would, but the ninety-something level Bakudou was more than she could break out of. And than he raided her latest stash of sake and poured it down the drain in front of her eyes, taking great pleasure in the act. It was sacrilege in Matsumoto's eyes. Did he have no appreciation for the stuff? Why did she even have to ask, of course he didn't. He was just a little mean lump of ice with his overly-long zanpakutou stuffed up his rear. It was a wonder it didn't come out of his mouth. How could he ever understand the finer points of life?
So she had spent the day literally glued to the desk, fighting with the seemingly endless pile of documents, the little white-haired devil standing above her, scolding her whenever she slowed down. Didn't he know she had her limits? Her fingers were hurting, cramping even, but did he give a break? No. He barely let her go to the bathroom. He even had the guts to claim that she couldn't possibly have to take a leak so often. Well, she didn't, but she had to reapply her makeup or brush her hair every once a while. Did he have no idea how taxing was the task of keeping her long hair in order?
As a result, her eyeliner got smeared when she couldn't resist rubbing her eyes any longer and her hair got all tangled. She looked like a mess and did he have any sympathy? No. He just made her work harder. And to add insult to injury, many members of their division came to the office that day and saw her in that sorry state. She was sure she would never live down the humiliation. How was she supposed to face her underlings after they saw her shamed? She'd better not even go to work tomorrow to avoid their pointing and snickering.
She slammed the door close behind her, cursing her captain along the way. Why did he have to be such an ungrateful brat? Couldn't he appreciate all that she did for him? Like looking representative and, well, anything expect work?
Damn him, she thought. I wish I had a different captain. Someone who could actually appreciate me. With the thought, she collapsed on the floor and soon fell asleep due to exhaustion.