Sitting alone in the haphazardly organized room that the 11th division had set aside for regulatory and legislative purposes, Kaede swiped at sheets of paper with an ink brush. The captain had left the paperwork to her. Again. She suppose that after fifty years she should be used to it, but his absenteeism still made her bristle.

"Lazy, no-good, do-nothing sumbitch..." she muttered under her breath, her words a heavy rustic drawl. It seemed to her that the only time the captain actually got off his ass was when he figured there was a good fight brewing, and anything less was beneath him. That meant that most of the actual running of the division fell to her. 

While the hierarchy of the squads had been stable for decades, it was widely recognized that she'd be a strong contender if a captain position opened. The last real hurdle was her bankai, which she'd been working at for eleven years, and those in the know considered her 'past due' for it.

Finishing off the last few strokes of the report, she blew the ink dry and stacked the papers. Rolling them into a sheaf, she bound them with a ribbon and stamped it shut with a wax seal. Dozens of hollow exterminations, hundreds of konso rituals; the report had been long and exceedingly tedious to write. It wasn't a fun job, but it was hers. When she had the parcel bound tightly, she tucked it into an inside pocket of her shihakusho and made her way towards the 1st division's offices to deliver the report.